Sullivan
“It's hot as f**k in here." Cutter runs a hand through his hair.
The Laurel Springs Emergency Response Team isn't a small group of people, and Cutter's right - it's stifling. When we have a meeting with all of us, it's obvious we need a different space.
“They must have the heat on."
“On the day it's almost seventy degrees outside," Cutter bitches.
“It was chilly up until today. Who pissed in your Cheerios?" I give him a look.
“Dude, I have been up for thirty-six f*****g hours," he grumbles.
“Why so long?"
He rolls his eyes. “Somebody called in and we couldn't find anyone to take the spot. It's not like we can run ambulances without EMTs, so I had to stay."
“Don't act like you're the only one," a voice says from the other side of Cutter's body.
Moving forward slightly,
