Medical Center – Interns' Changing Room
After finishing his speech, Chief of Surgery Richard Webber left the room.
The group headed to the changing room, where they put on blue scrubs and white coats, stethoscopes hanging around their necks, officially stepping into their roles as surgical interns.
In a hospital, hierarchy is strict—even attire follows specific rules.
Interns and residents wear blue scrubs, while attending physicians wear dark blue ones.
"A 48-hour shift right off the bat? That's insane."
Bianca whispered to Adam, "It's way easier in internal medicine."
"That's surgery for you," Adam replied with a grin as he adjusted his coat.
"Only six women out of twenty surgical interns? That's a bit unfriendly," Meredith commented, glancing around the room.
"Has Harvard Medical School reached a 1:1 gender ratio already?" Adam asked curiously.
"..." Meredith was momentarily speechless.
In most industries, men still dominate—and the medical field is no exception. Male students still outnumber females significantly. A 14:6 ratio was already considered relatively inclusive, especially since this was general surgery, not gynecology.
Her complaint was more of an instinctive feminist reaction, but Adam's bluntness caught her off guard.
"That's nothing. One of the six women is even a model," Cristina scoffed, glancing toward Alice. "Seriously though, are we supposed to be impressed by that?"
"Alice isn't the model," Adam said with a smile. "If anyone here fits that description, it'd be her."
Following Adam's gaze, the group saw a tall, curvy blonde adjusting her hair.
"No way," Cristina said, surprised. "Aren't models supposed to be skinny and frail-looking?"
"Depends on the kind of model," Adam explained. "Those edgy high-fashion models, sure. But mainstream models usually have that classic 'tall blonde bombshell' look—it's more in line with conventional beauty standards."
"And how do you know so much about this?" Meredith asked with a teasing smile.
"I dabble," Adam replied modestly.
"Of course, he would know. Billionaires always do," Cristina remarked, her gaze shifting from Alice to the blonde bombshell, then to Bianca, Meredith, and finally herself in the mirror. Her tone turned a little sarcastic.
"Our group's really something. A billionaire turning doctor, a bunch of gorgeous women—it's like we're starring in a medical drama, Our Days or something."
"You watch Our Days too?" Adam asked, raising an eyebrow. "So, what do you think of Dr. Derek Lamore?"
At the mention of Derek's name, Meredith froze for a second.
"He's hot but kind of dumb. I mean, let's be real—he'd never cut it as a doctor in real life," Cristina judged.
"Ha!" Adam couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"The actor who plays Derek Lamore is Adam's friend—Joey Tribbiani," Bianca explained.
"Really?" Cristina looked genuinely surprised. TV actors always seemed so far removed from regular life, but considering Adam was a billionaire author, it made sense.
"Can I ask you something about Joey?"
"Go ahead," Adam replied with a grin.
"When he's talking and suddenly stops, tilting his head like he's deep in thought—did he forget his lines?" Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by novelFirｅ.net
"That's called the 'Smell-the-Fart' acting technique," Adam chuckled. "It's what actors do to buy time when they blank on their lines."
"I knew it!" Cristina smirked. "How'd he even land the role? You'd think an important supporting character could at least memorize his lines."
"Hehe." Adam dodged the question with another one. "You think he came up with the technique on his own? Nah, he learned it from the pros."
How did Joey get the role? Connections, of course—but that wasn't something he needed to share.
"Okay, Martin, Robinson, Bond, Hawkins!"
A hospital staff member began assigning interns to groups.
Four interns quickly stepped forward and followed instructions to meet their resident supervisors.
"Who are you assigned to? Meredith and I are with Bailey," Cristina asked.
"You too? I'm with Bailey as well," a slightly chubby guy interrupted before Adam or Bianca could respond. "At least we'll suffer together. I'm George O'Malley."
When Meredith and Cristina ignored him, he turned to the smiling Meredith. "We met at the bar last night. You were wearing a black dress with a slit and Roman sandals… And, no, I'm not gay, by the way."
"You sure about that?" Adam teased. "Most straight guys don't notice those details."
Sure, men check out women from head to toe—but remembering the exact style of her dress and shoes? That leaned a bit too far into meticulous territory.
"O'Malley, Yang, Grey, Stevens!" the staff member called out.
The chubby intern quickly followed Meredith, while the tall blonde model also caught up with them.
"He's got some serious lady luck," Adam remarked to Bianca, watching the four walk away. "Surrounded by women—it's like being in a harem."
"You're overthinking it," Bianca chuckled. "Too many women can be a bad thing. He might not be gay now, but give it time."
"True," Adam nodded with a grin. "If everyone starts treating him like 'one of the girls,' he might just get absorbed into the sisterhood. O'Malley seems a little soft—could be dangerous."
"And if it were you instead?" Bianca gave him a playful side-eye.
"Heh." Adam just smiled knowingly. "If it were me, I'd have them joining my team, not the other way around."
"Duncan, Samson, Turk, Fowler!"
Another set of names was called.
"Let's go," Adam motioned for Bianca to follow.
"Hey, I'm Chris Turk," a bald African-American guy greeted them enthusiastically. "Looks like we're all under the same attending—the Compassion Doctor."
They both shook his hand.
"Compassion Doctor? You mean Dr. Sydney Heron's nickname?" Adam asked.
"Yep," Chris grinned. "Total opposite of Bailey. Dr. Heron's super kind—loves to care for patients and colleagues alike. We're lucky."