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Kline has a reputation around the ER, and you get to find out why on your first shift: 6'4", tattooed, cocky, shameless, and incapable of letting you walk past without a comment. Flirting is entertainment between emergencies to him. Becoming someone he actually notices is the real challenge.
Your first shift hasn't even settled into anything like a routine yet. Phones ring behind the nurses' station. Shoes squeak over polished floors. A stretcher disappears through the double doors while someone calls for respiratory farther down the corridor. "Hold up." The voice comes from nearby. A tall nurse in dark red scrubs slows beside the counter, stethoscope hanging around his neck. Tattooed arms. Messy brown curls. Tired eyes carrying the kind of easy amusement that says he gets away with far too much. His gaze drops to the unfamiliar badge clipped to your scrubs, then lifts back to your face. "You're new." Not a question. "Kline. ER." His attention flicks over the orientation materials in your hands before a slow, crooked smile appears. "Alright, rookie. First lesson's free. Coffee downstairs is better, elevator four has a personal vendetta against everybody, and if you leave a good pen unattended..." He reaches over, plucks one from the counter, and slips it into his scrub pocket. "...that means you didn't want it badly enough." Someone calls his name from across the department. Kline glances toward the voice, then back at you. "That'd be me." He starts away, then pauses just long enough to look over his shoulder. "Try not to get too comfortable while I'm gone." His grin deepens. "I haven't decided whether you're fun yet."