Nathan couldn't stop turning, tensing worriedly with every shuddering cough from the cubicle next to him. His fingers stopped on his keyboard.
"Samson?" He started, about to get up.
"Nathan?"
The young doctor turned and looked up to view, with pleasant surprise, the huge grin on his boss's face. And, even more surprising, a curious smile from the boss, Rotti Largo.
"I'd like you to come to the GeneCo associates dinner tonight."
Yoshin moved out of the way, and Nathan's eyes widened when Largo addressed him.
"Yoshin has told me a lot about you, Nathan. I would love for you to attend."
He could do nothing but nod in response. Satisfied, Rotti continued walking. Yoshin stuck behind for a moment, leaning over the top of Nathan's cubicle to look him in the eye.
"You were very good, responding to the whole 'Cynthia' crisis the other day." Yoshin said. "Fast thinking, precise work... I think you may get upgraded to surgeon soon."
Nathan was left speechless again as Yoshin strode to catch up with Largo.
Samson scoffed from the cubicle next to him. Nathan looked over, responding with a similarly uncommital 'hmm?', though he knew his excitement was probably in his smile. How smug he must look.
"Y' lucky bastard." Samson drolled, leaning back in his chair. "Not everyday a GeneCo surgeon makes a mistake like that."
Nathan considered this.
"Is it every day an intern takes over?"
Oh, wow. Definitely letting it get to his head now.
"No." Samson admitted. "Still think yer a lucky bastard, though." Then he coughed, and Nathan felt the wave of worry for his coworker, shadowed over by his anticipation earlier, return full force.
"Samson, how did your surgery go?" Nathan said, chin resting on the top of his cubicle wall as he scanned Samson quickly for any signs of organ rejection or infection. "Are you recovering well and properly?"
Samson laughed then, spreading his arms wide.
"Always the doctor, huh? Went fine." He slapped his own chest good-heartedly. "Luckily my surgeon didn' go an' try an' take out the wrong damn lung first. It got stitched up fine."
"And the pain?"
Samson flinched.
"I c'n handle it."
"There's a brand of zydrate specifically for smoker's lung patients, with a nicotine substitute, you know-"
"I know, Nate." Samson smiled, giving his coworker the thumbs up. "Good workin' with ya, man. I have a feelin' you won' be workin' in a cubicle fer much longer."
