He's Noticed
"Ah, Dr Petrenko." Luc extended his hand. "I don't believe we've been formally introduced. I'm-"
"I know who you are." Frieda didn't even look up from the computer. "Your name is on the board. You're not Mr Levy and you're clearly not Mr Spence so that leaves… ah, yes, Mr Hemingway," she finished, turning and reading from the board behind them.
"'Clearly not Mr Spence.'" Luc frowned. "Was that supposed to be an insult?"
"You tell me."
Intrigued, Luc folded his arms and leaned against the desk. "They told me about you."
"Really."
"Yes, really." He reached over and switched off the computer monitor. Frieda turned and glared, but he had a smirk on his face and she too folded her arms, mimicking his expression. "What about me?" she asked. "How I can read people's names from a board?"
Luc's smirk turned into a smile. "No, that bit they left out. Call it an added bonus. No, really," he said, seeing Frieda was losing patience, "they told me. You're good."
"Who told you?"
"Mr Levy, Dr Valentine, Mr Douglas. Mr Hope," he added.
"Oh." There was no mistaking the disappointment in her voice. "Well, Mr Levy is always nice about everyone. I'm sure he'd even find something nice to say about you." She sighed. "Dr Valentine is my friend so of course he will say that; Mr Douglas thinks I'm still a nurse and Mr Hope…" Frieda shrugged. "Mr Hope is the best. I would trust his judgement."
"Oh, I do."
The doors opened and they both looked up in time to see Michael disappearing from the ward. "He doesn't like it down here much, does he?" Luc mused, watching Frieda for a reaction.
"He's busy, that's all." She'd returned her attention to the computer and wished Luc would take the hint. "Now he's gone, shouldn't you actually be doing something useful?"
"I think this is useful."
"What? Standing around, chatting and watching me while I look for patient notes on the computer?"
Luc shook his head. "No. Standing around, chatting, and watching you while you quietly seethe that I missed someone's name off the list."
"List? What list? I am busy, Mr Hemingway-"
"Luc."
"-Mr Hemingway, so if you don't mind."
"The list. Of people who told me you're a good doctor." He carried on as though she hadn't spoken.
"I don't need a list. I know I'm good." Frieda printed a sheet and grabbed it from the printer.
"But it would be nice to know that your efforts weren't going unnoticed."
"Well, you've noticed," she muttered, sarcastic.
"Yes, but I'm not the ward consultant."
She looked at him. "I'm so pleased you know that."
"Mr Spence," he said finally.
Frieda sighed, annoyed. "What about him?" She started to log out of the computer.
"He told me."
"Told you what?"
"That you're good. No, in fact, I think he said you were great."
"Did he." But she was listening, against her better judgement.
"Well, actually, I don't know what he said. He didn't say anything, really." Luc started following her as she stepped away from the desk. "I was just standing around, chatting, watching him-"
"I don't think you're his type," Frieda interjected.
"Ha ha. No, what I mean is, I was watching for a reaction." They stopped just beyond a patient's bed and he stared at her.
"Reaction to what?"
"You."
"Me?" Her voice was more high-pitched than she'd intended. "Mr Hemingway, I'm sorry, but I don't have time to stand and talk. I would love to, obviously; maybe we could get a coffee sometime and you can tell me about how Mr Spence turned you down but right now, I have a patient to see and Mr Hanssen has just walked into the ward…" She let her eyes drift towards the main doors. Sure enough, Luc turned around, and Frieda took her cue to leave.
"Hanssen's not- hey." Luc shook his head. "Fine." He folded his arms once more. Frieda was still in earshot. "Maybe we'll get that coffee."
"Goodbye, Mr Hemingway."
"He's noticed," Luc called after her.
Frieda looked up. "Who has?"
The doors to the ward crashed open once more. Michael was wheeling a bed through and shouting orders. Luc saw the realisation dawn on Frieda's face; with a shrug and a smile, he turned and walked away.