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As Meredith's gloved hands danced across the exposed surgical field, Blake found herself utterly engrossed. The rhythmic beeping of the monitors served as a backdrop to this intricate performance, each steady pulse a testament to the fragile life hanging in the balance.
The sharp tang of antiseptic mingled with the comforting aroma of coffee that Blake clutched in her travel mug. The distant murmur of attending physicians discussed the surgery's finer points.
From her vantage point in the gallery, Blake found herself flanked by George and Cristina, all eager interns united by the desire to stand in Meredith's shoes. George, slumped in his chair, let out an envious sigh. "I wish I could hold a heart," he muttered, his voice laced with a yearning that resonated deep within Blake.
Cristina scoffed. "A monkey could hold a heart," she said, her voice dripping with characteristic sarcasm. A glint of envy flickered in her steely gaze, betraying the competitive fire that burned within her.
Movement caught Blake's eye as Izzie joined them in the gallery. Blake couldn't resist a playful jab at Cristina's earlier cynicism, a slight lift of her eyebrow conveying both amusement and understanding. "Looks like someone's a little salty they weren't in there with Burke," she remarked.
Cristina's lips thinned into a frown. "Oh. And you're not?" She countered, her voice laced with a challenge. Blake knew better than to get into a public sparring match with Cristina, but a secret part of her admired the other intern's unwavering confidence.
"George, I need more ice and chips," Izzie suddenly chimed in. She scribbled something down on a chart she'd brought along.
"Who else did you invite?" George questioned, his brow furrowing. Their plan had been a lowkey gathering at Meredith's.
