When he began working at Gold Medical, he had done so with pictures of his mother littering his desk.
When they threw him out, he hadn't had time to get them and thus, found himself back here.
Usually, the lobby was silent with everyone moving in an arranged manner. But today, it smelled of panic.
Nurses were running back and forth with files clutched to their chests. Doctors were shouting into phones. The air was thick with the scent of nervous sweat and fear.
Tyson and Mark, the two security guards who had thrown Burt into the garbage just hours ago, were standing by the entrance, looking exhausted.
As Burt walked past them, Tyson stepped forward instinctively, his hand going to his belt.
"Sir, visiting hours are over for general…" Tyson stopped, blinked then squinted at Burt.
For some reason, he found this person familiar, but he was a mere bodyguard who didn't know much people.
The man in front of him wasnt the cowering Burt Loy from hours ago. His clothes were different, and his shoes were expensive.
Even if he had his suspicion, he quickly shoved it to the back of his mind as he recalled the state they had left Burt.
Even if he returned to the hospital, he wouldn't be looking so magnificent. Best bet, he'd be crawling through the front doors.
So realizing he made a mistake, he smiled nervously and stepped aside. "Uhh… s-sorry, sir. Go ahead,"
Burt didn't nod or smile and just kept walking.
As he moved deeper into the lobby, heads turned.
The receptionists, who usually barked orders at him everyday to mop up spills, stopped typing.
"Who is that?" one whispered, biting her lip.
"Is that a celebrity? A specialist from abroad?"
"He looks… familiar."
Burt ignored them all.
His Medical Gaze was active, scanning the room. He could see the elevated cortisol levels in the nurses.
He could see the trembling hands of the interns.
He reached the elevators and pressed the button for the staff lockers.
Ding.
The doors opened.
But standing inside was Chris Gold.
Chris looked terrible. His tie was loosened, his hair was a mess, and he was screaming into his cell phone.
"I don't care what the labs say! Fake the results if you have to! If the Mayor finds out we don't know what's wrong with his son, we're finished! Just… hold on."
Chris looked up as the doors opened, annoyed at the interruption.
He saw the suit first. Then the shoes. Then the face.
He froze, then slowly lowered the phone from his ear.
"You?"
Chris blinked, shaking his head as if hallucinating. He stepped out of the elevator, blocking Burt's path.
"Burt?"
A slow, mocking grin spread across Chris' face, though it was strained by his current stress.
"Well, well. Look at you. Did you rob a grave on your way out? Or is that a costume rental?"
He reached out to flick the lapel of Burt's jacket.
Burt had forgotten to tear it off.
"Get your hand off me," Burt frowned.
Chris' face immediately darkened.
"Cleaning up nice doesn't change anything. You're still the same loser who was crying on the floor this morning. What are you doing here? Did you come back to beg for your job? Because the answer is no."
"I'm here for my things," Burt said calmly, stepping around him. "My locker. My mother's photos."
Chris , "Your old things? We burned them."
Burt stopped.
The air in the hallway seemed to drop ten degrees. The nurses at the station nearby went silent.
Burt turned slowly. "What did you say?"
"We cleared out your locker an hour ago," Chris repeated, enjoying the moment. "Trash belongs in the incinerator. Your old clothes, that stupid picture of your mom… poof. Gone. Just like your marriage."
Burt stared at him blandly, but instead of feeling anger, he almost laughed when his Medical Gaze analyzed Chris.
The rapid heartbeat, dilated pupils and the trace amounts of white powder lingering in Chris' nasal cavity.
"You're high," Burt stated flatly.
Chris' eyes widened. "What?"
"Cocaine. Probably twenty minutes ago. To deal with the stress." Burt took a step closer. "You're the Chief of Surgery, and you're high while treating the Mayor's son?"
"Shut up!" Chris hissed, looking around frantically at the nurses. "Lower your voice, you lying dog!"
"Security!" Chris yelled, his face turning red. "Security! Get this trespasser out of here!"
Tyson and Mark came running from the entrance.
"Grab him!" Chris ordered, pointing a shaking finger at Burt. "Break his legs this time!"
The guards didn't know what was happening and hesitated.
They were still yet to recognize Burt.
They looked at the suit and sucked in a deep breath.
"Are you deaf?!" Chris barked angrily when they hesitated.
Tyson was the first to step forward but the second he did, Burt turned to look at him coldly.
"Your right knee has a torn meniscus. One wrong move and you'll never walk again."
He looked at Mark. "And you. Your liver is failing from the cheap alcohol. Do you really want to exert yourself?"
The guards froze, exchanging terrified glances. How did he know?
"I said get him!" Chris screamed, lunging forward himself.
He raised a fist, aiming for Burt's face.
Burt didn't even blink. He caught Chris' fist in mid-air.
It wasn't a struggle. It was like a child trying to punch a steel wall.
Burt squeezed.
"Ah! Ahhh! Let go!" Chris shrieked, dropping to his knees as the pressure on his knuckles became unbearable.
"I'm not the dog anymore, Chris," Burt whispered, leaning down so only Chris could hear. "I'm the one holding the leash."
He shoved Chris backward. The Chief of Surgery tumbled onto his butt, sliding across the polished floor like a discarded toy.
Before Chris could scramble up, the main doors of the hospital burst open with a violent crash.
"WHERE IS SHE?!"
A booming voice filled the lobby.
The Mayor had arrived. And he brought the entire city's police force with him.