Rhinoplasty was nothing to Mark Sloan. He could do one in his sleep. He is halfway through this "simple" procedure when he thinks he sees his cell phone flash out of the corner of his eye. It's on a high table somewhere to his right. He dismisses it as the lights in the operating theatre glinting off something metallic and turns back to his patient.
An hour and a half later he is out of surgery and, having scrubbed out, is making his way towards the cafeteria for a cup of the most revolting coffee known to man. But he needs it – he's doing the night shift.
Mark Sloan avoids the elevators in Seattle Grace Hospital like the plague now. Only bad things can happen in those elevators. So he takes the stairs. Halfway up, on a landing, he suddenly remembers his cell phone flashing in the OR and he stops.
The name on the screen makes his heart stop.
"Addison." He whispers to himself, and shoves the phone back into the pocket of his white coat.
It's quarter to seven.
He wants to go to Joe's and drink until he's too drunk to see the screen of his cell phone. But then again he knows her number by heart and would be far more likely to call her from the phone in his hotel room. (No, he's still not moved out.)
He starts up the stairs again with a new found desire for a cup of the most revolting coffee known to man...
As he reviews the charts in the rack twenty minutes later he prays that tonight is going to be busy.
Awful, he knows.
But anything to keep him from thinking of her.
"Gravity is working against me
And gravity,
Wants to bring me down."
- "Gravity", John Mayer