Flirt With Doctor Quotes

Did you get checked out?” “Yeah, by a hot blond who sat in the corner of the bar and made googly eyes at me.” “I meant by a doctor.” “No, but a balding yet bizarrely hot paramedic said I’d be fine." “Oh, and he’s an expert?” “At flirting.

The Doctor: Dr. Song, you’ve got that face on again. River: What face? The Doctor: The ‘he’s hot when he’s clever’ face. River: This is my normal face. The Doctor: Yes, it is.

Me? I'm being ridiculous? You're the one flirting for your thesis. What the hell kind of degree is that anyway? A doctorate of dick tease?

I mean it. I can't go alone. And I really can't go with Levana." "Well, there are about 200,000 single girls in this city who would fall over themselves to have the privilege." A hush passed between them... "Cinder." She couldn't help it. She looked at him... "200,000 single girls," he said. "Why not you?" Cyborg. Lunar. Mechanic. She was the last thing he wanted. She opened her lips, and the elevator stopped. "I'm sorry. But trust me---you don't want to go with me." The doors opened and the tension released her. She rushed out of the elevator, head down, trying to look at the small group of people waiting for the elevator. "Come to the ball with me." She froze. Everyone in the hallway froze. Cinder turned back. Kai was still standing in elevator B one hand propping open the door. Her nerves frazzled, and all the emotions of the past hour were converging into a single sickening feeling---exasperation. The hall was filled with doctors, nurses, androids, officials, technicians, and they all fell into an awkward hush and stared at the prince and the girl in the baggy cargo pants he was flirting with. Flirting. Squaring her shoulders, she retreated back into the elevator and pushed him inside, not even caring that it was her metal hand. "Hold the elevator," he said to the android as the doors shut behind him. He smiled. "That got your attention.

The [elevator] doors opened and the tension released her. She rushed out of the elevator, head down, trying to look at the small group of people waiting for the elevator. "Come to the ball with me." She froze. Everyone in the hallway froze. Cinder turned back. Kai was still standing in elevator B one hand propping open the door. Her nerves frazzled, and all the emotions of the past hour were converging into a single sickening feeling---exasperation. The hall was filled with doctors, nurses, androids, officials, technicians, and they all fell into an awkward hush and stared at the prince and the girl in the baggy cargo pants he was flirting with. Flirting. Squaring her shoulders, she retreated back into the elevator and pushed him inside, not even caring that it was her metal hand. "Hold the elevator," he said to the android as the doors shut behind him. He smiled. "That got your attention.

The hall was filled with doctors, nurses, androids, officials, technicians, and they all fell into an awkward hush and stared at the prince and the girl in the baggy cargo pants he was flirting with. Flirting.

We made sure you got the cute, gay doctor,” Lonny said, smiling at the man, shamelessly flirting.

You’re a badass, hot-as-hell, fucking brilliant doctor, not some insecure high school girl. Man up!” “Do you know how rife with toxic masculinity the phrase man up is?” I challenged, mirroring her pose. “It implies that to be courageous is to be a man.” “Do you know how annoying it is when you change the subject?” Her tone was smug. “I’m just saying, we don’t need to insert men into every aspect of our language.” “Okay, ovary up. Fallopian forward. Vulva with a vengeance.

As we strolled into the hospital, I couldn’t help thinking about Maroon 5’s “Harder to Breathe” because I was having a difficult time staying calm. I had been kidnapped and beaten senseless by an agent of Lucifer, and yet the white coats the doctors wore scared me just as badly. The men who had taken me from my mother wore those same damned lab coats. Every time I saw one, it awakened a dormant fear inside me—fear that I’d be dragged away from someone I loved again, fear that I’d be placed into the waiting hands of another horrible person. It would never truly go away. Michael’s shoulder bumped mine, which shook me out of my thoughts. I glanced at him. “What?” “You’re frowning.” “Am I supposed to be smiling right now?” He faced forward, looking at our reflection in the elevator doors. “No, but you look like you’re about to bolt at any second.” I watched the digital numbers change one by one as we rose up to the right floor, fiddling with the rosary in the pocket of my leather jacket. Somehow, the beads had a calming effect on me. “I’m fine.” “Hard ass.” A tiny smirk touched my lips. “Stop thinking about my butt. You’re an archangel.” He grinned, but didn’t reply.

When you are surrounded by death and disease, aggressive and drunk patients, and nurses (male and female) trying constantly to flirt with you, it can make working in A&E an interesting and often stressful environment

have always been fascinated by relationships. I grew up in Britain, where my dad ran a pub, and I spent a lot of time watching people meeting, talking, drinking, brawling, dancing, flirting. But the focal point of my young life was my parents’ marriage. I watched helplessly as they destroyed their marriage and themselves. Still, I knew they loved each other deeply. In my father’s last days, he wept raw tears for my mother although they had been separated for more than twenty years. My response to my parents’ pain was to vow never to get married. Romantic love was, I decided, an illusion and a trap. I was better off on my own, free and unfettered. But then, of course, I fell in love and married. Love pulled me in even as I pushed it away. What was this mysterious and powerful emotion that defeated my parents, complicated my own life, and seemed to be the central source of joy and suffering for so many of us? Was there a way through the maze to enduring love? I followed my fascination with love and connection into counseling and psychology. As part of my training, I studied this drama as described by poets and scientists. I taught disturbed children who had been denied love. I counseled adults who struggled with the loss of love. I worked with families where family members loved each other, but could not come together and could not live apart. Love remained a mystery. Then, in the final phase of getting my doctorate in counseling psychology at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver, I started to work with couples. I was instantly mesmerized by the intensity of their struggles and the way they often spoke of their relationships in terms of life and death.

I couldn’t help wondering if she was gay. She was doing a good imitation of flirting, but perhaps it was just a ploy to keep me docile.

And is her boy Anson as ornery as ever? I imagine he’s all grown up now, isn’t he?” Sarah nodded. “He’s grown a foot since he went away to war, and filled out some. He’s quite the handsome charmer now.” “Ohhhhh?” No one could inject such a depth of meaning into a single syllable and a lifted brow as her sister. “He tried flirting with me, but I indicated I wasn’t interested,” Sarah said loftily, pretending a great interest in brushing a cookie crumb off her bodice. “Though I imagine the Spinsters’ Club ladies will be.” “Why?” Milly said, ignoring Sarah’s second remark for the first. “Because of our Yankee doctor?” To her dismay, Sarah felt a blush spreading up her cheeks. “Of course not. I don’t know why you and Prissy keep trying to pair us off.” Milly only smiled. “We agreed to be friends,” Sarah said, “and then he didn’t even show up at the taffy pull, and hasn’t mentioned it since. Though I imagine it was because he was so busy taking care of all those sick folks,” she admitted, determined to be fair.

Saatana,” I curse as I nearly take a puck to the face. It whacks off the crossbar and hits my shoulder before dropping into the net. White scores because I was too busy watching my coach flirt with the pretty doctor to guard my damn goal.

So I get to spend my first night with you, huh?” A blush heated her cheeks. Though she doubted Agent Hennessey felt any real discomfort just now, she could not believe he had the audacity to flirt with her. “In a manner of speaking,” she said calmly. The man could very well be feeling a bit loose-tongued. He might not mean to flirt. He made a sound in his chest, a laugh perhaps. “I’ve been dying to get you all to myself ever since that night,” he mumbled. Taken aback, Elizabeth reminded herself that he probably wouldn’t even remember anything he said. Ignoring the remark was likely the best course. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to let that slip out.” She’d suspected as much. Swiping her hands on her thighs, she sat back, relaxed her shoulders against the empty shelves behind her. “That’s all right, Agent Hennessey,” she allowed, “most patients say more than they mean to when on heavy-duty painkillers.” He licked his lips and groaned. The doctor in her went on immediate alert. “Are you feeling pain now, Agent Hennessey?” Surely not. He’d been dosed half an hour prior to their departure. He inhaled a big breath. “No way, Doc. I’m flying over here.” He blinked a few times then turned his head slowly to look at her. “God, you’re gorgeous, did you know that?” Elizabeth sat a little straighter, tugged at the collar of her blouse to occupy her hands. “You might want to get some more sleep, Hennessey, before you say something you’ll regret.” “Too late, right?” He made another of those rumbling sounds that were likely an attempt at chuckling. “No big deal.” He waved a hand dismissively. “You already know how gorgeous you are.

There had been so many. He had hired young ones because they were more plentiful and worked cheaper. The better of those got married and pregnant and wanted six months off. The bad ones flirted, wore tight miniskirts, and made suggestive comments. He had hired more mature women to negate any physical temptation, but, as a rule, they had been bossy, maternal, menopausal, and they had more doctors' appointments, as well as aches and pains to talk about and funerals to attend.

She’d been on the verge of flying out to see me--she’d practically booked a ticket to Pisa for the first flight out this morning--but then she’d thought, No, Violet wouldn’t want me to make a fuss--I give a particularly enthusiastic murmur of agreement at that bit--but she’s been on tenterhooks, and so relieved the doctor’s saying I’m okay, but I must make sure to rest up…unless I want her to come and get me and take me home to recover? There’s a flight this evening; she could easily make that. She’d just throw some clothes in a bag… That’s the only part where I need to stir myself and reassure her that no, I’m fine, I really am, that whatever I ate is long gone now, that I’ll be back to my studies here tomorrow, and please, Mum, please don’t make too much of a fuss. It takes a long time to keep repeating that so she can hear it and take it in. But after thirty minutes of pleading with her not to come over, let alone take me back home, she runs down like a toy with its batteries slowly going dead.