"Special project?" 

Emily perked an eyebrow as she rounded the corner. The treatment room annoyed the young physio beyond all reason - the design of it meant that you couldn't see the doorway from the treatment couches, so you constantly had to get up and take a look. That said, it wasn't that she was lazy of course, but she had found a way around it by scooting about on her swivel chair, much to Brett's annoyance, but that was a whole other story.

"Do I need [I]another[/I] project?" The scepticism and her southern English accent was all rather evident as she finally emerged into view. The blonde looked between Bob and Jared. "Well he can walk, I guess that's a bonus, right?" And with a small smirk, she started to subconsciously fiddle with the zipper on the pocket of her leggings. It was starting to feel like every time Bob appeared, he'd signed on another injured player. To be honest, it felt a little like he had absolutely no idea what went in to any of this. Like she had some sorta' magic wand and it all went away. Still, she wasn't one to complain. Instead she just smiled sweetly and kept her thoughts to herself. For now at least.

"So what's broken?"

At this point, her attention finally flicked to Jared, "If it's your knee, I'm sending you back." And with those a words, a warning glance was quickly sent in Bob's direction - who merely held up his hands in surrender. You didn't upset the team therapist. "No!" He exclaimed in his own defence, "I can honestly say that it absolutely is not his knee." Well, that was good news, good enough to make Em loosen up just a little. "Should I have some kinda' report?" She asked as she wandered her way over to the laptop, "Because I don't think I have one yet." That was when the door swung open and knocked obnoxiously against the wall, causing the blonde to flinch. Hockey players had no respect for doorframes. In limped Greg, notably looking rather sorry for himself. Emily eyed him suspiciously, and pointed to the furthest couch with her pen. "Wait over there." She knew exactly what he'd done, [I]practiced.[/I] Damn coach was determined to kill off all of the players. Greg was a left winger, and pretty good by all accounts. Still, the rather bulky New Yorker didn't utter a word as he shuffled towards the couch. He knew it was going to be painful session. If he was lucky, he'd get Brett.

"So, are we starting now, or is this just some sort of tour?" Her head cocked to side as she twirled a random piece of hair around her finger and pushed it into her ponytail. Most teams would wait for a therapists assessment before they signed a player on, unfortunately not this one. 

"What position are you?"