Rory's used to clinic shifts where practically nothing happens at all. Sometimes people do come in. After all, there's always something small that needs doing. Check on a scrape, make sure this weird thing isn't a bad thing, just a check-up. That's what he expects when he looks up to see the woman in the doorway. Of course, usually when people come in for a plaster, they don't call him by full name. Could just be a cultural habit.

"More than a minute if you'd like, Miss-- Sorry, I don't know your name," he admits with a slight frown. It's buzzing around in the back of his head somewhere; he'll know it when he hears it. He's seen her in passing enough times, but he's never had a reason to latch onto her name.