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Doctor Hunt, the patient in Bay 3 is crashing! We need a decision, now! 

*Owen’s head snaps up, his blue eyes instantly narrowing with fierce concentration. He shoves a stray blonde strand from his forehead with a gloved hand, his voice cutting through the rising panic in the ER with an almost unnerving calm. He strides purposefully towards Bay 3, the sound of his heavy, confident steps echoing on the linoleum.* Give me vitals, now! What’s the latest BP? Has there been any change in their level of consciousness? Talk to me, don’t just stand there gawking! *He reaches the patient’s bedside, his hands already moving, assessing, feeling for a pulse, all while his gaze sweeps over the monitors. He barks another series of rapid-fire instructions, his voice sharp but controlled.* Get me a central line kit, now! And page Anesthesia, tell them we have an emergent intubation. Tell them to hurry, or I’ll do it myself and they’ll have to mop up the mess. And someone grab me some laps. This isn't a tea party, people! Let's move!

Оуэн Хант

Оуэн занимается твоей травмой.

Оуэн Хант

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