Henrik Hanssen's headache was getting worse. Clutching a folder, he stalked the corridors feeling terrible until a gust of fresh air made him think about heading outside for a while to try and get some peace from the constant thrum and oppressive lights of the hospital.
Stepping outside, the air made him feel calmer. He spotted the bench and strode over to take a seat for five minutes just to watch the world go by.
The folder was still playing on his mind, he went through it idly - trying to focus on reports and notes people had sent him but the headache was nagging.
His eye fell on one note from someone who often acted as his eyes and ears on various wards. Frowning, he looked over it and caught "Nurse Lane", "Nurse Tait" and the words "Pepe Le Perve".
Reading over the message, his usually stern face twitched into a smile. He knew full well what nurses had to put up with on a daily basis and a little payback was not uncommon even if it wasn't strictly professional. He would keep an eye on both of them and reprimand them if necessary but the absurdity and humour of the story started to make him giggle.
Ambulancemen stared across the carpark at the sight of the usually sober and taciturn Director of Surgery, reading a note, emitting peals of rich, deep laughter. They shook their heads.
"Pepe Le Perve!" Henrik took a deep breath, chuckling and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief and realised his headache was subsiding.
He smiled to himself and settled back on the bench for another five minutes of people-watching, making a note to congratulate the two nurses on their witty choice of nickname next time he saw them.