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PILOT


"Hey," a man walked toward Cruz leaning against the truck. "Um. My-my name is Peter Mills. I'm the new candidate on 81," he explained.

"Oh fantastic. Joe Cruz," he introduced himself and picked his stuff off the ground. "We've been waiting for you."

"Really? Great," Mill started following him onto the apparatus floor and into the firehouse.

"So Peter Mills, is it?"

"Well Pete actually-"

"Okay. Peter Mills, right this way. So, uh, gym's through there," Cruz pointed around. "There's a TV in the kitchen, but satellite's busted. Uh, equipment room," Cruz pointed again. "Rescue Squad a-holes think they own that table and Skylar Owens, PIC, and the only one allowed at the table," Sky looked up from her spot reading next to Kelly and stared him down. "Kitchen. Tower," Cruz finished explaining and walked into the firehouse.

"Hi," Peter Mills waved slightly as they walked past the table.

"Don't talk to me," Skylar said watching him. Mills opened his mouth to speak again but Skylar raised her hand to stop him, closing her hand like a mouth, "Ah. Go. You're losing your tourguide," she waved him off.

"Peter Mills, lets go!" Cruz called out. After the kid left, Skylar started laughing to herself.

"You're so mean," Kelly laughed from beside her.

"I need something to entertain me around here. You're pretty boring when you're not jumping through fire, Lieutenant," she raised her eyebrows at him.

"You're not so entertaining yourself, Owens," Kelly retorted.

"Please," Skylar threw her head back, "Did you not have an amazing time trying to out drink me Saturday night?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Fair enough," Kelly mumbled.

"That's what I thought," She smirked at him when suddenly the bell rang and everyone sat up.

"Firehouse 51, Ambulance 61, Multiple gunshot injuries, 934 Roosevelt Road," the dispatcher announced. Skylar passed her book to Kelly as she stood up.

"Have fun! Do something entertaining!" Kelly called out.

"Kiss my ass, Severide!" Skylar yelled back as she slammed the ambulance door and Shay pulled out of the Firehouse.

I ALMOST DO | k. severideWhere stories live. Discover now