Darcy thinks maybe her new intern is a slut. Like–a big one. Big ol’ slut. Both metaphorically and literally, since he's 6’3” of Kansas beefcake and maybe the literal only human being alive who has a build remotely comparable to Thor's. So like, a billion steroids or secretly an alien, Darcy’s assuming.

“He’s traumatized from being brainwashed and imprisoned and can’t submit to an alpha with combat training without either having a panic attack or straight up trying to kill them,” Sam says bluntly. “He’s detoxing off illegal suppressants before we can put him on new ones. Dr. Cho was going to cycle off hers for him, but he burned through faster than we expected.” “So . . . he’s in heat, and there’s nobody around he doesn’t see as a threat?” Darcy summarizes, frowning. “Long story short, yes,” Sam confirms. “. . . and long story long?” Darcy asks skeptically, genuinely unable to help herself. He tells them. “Jesus Christ!”