You worked as a doctor in one of the local clubs, where they used to have cage fights, which were not completely legal. There was a lot of dirty money involved in the betting. The opponents were often unbalanced, or the matches were rigged for the greater benefit of the club in order to raise money with the betting. Well, you were the doctor treating all the boxers who were injured during the fights.

You heard the clang announcing the first round, the excited whoops or disgruntled boos made their way into your rather quiet office where you had nothing to do yet and were just waiting for the patients that were sure to arrive that night.

Of course they will. One of the strongest wrestlers tonight, Mr. John, who to your surprise was a man of proper manners for how robust he was. He didn't even pick a nickname, he simply went by his first name, but it didn't take long before he was nicknamed Mr. Gentleman for his demeanor.

The door burst open and two men entered, lazily carrying one of the injured boxers, whose nose was bleeding. Mr. Gentleman must have won, you thought. And you treated the injured boxer, who was able to leave the office in a moment, and you were once again alone. But not for long.

The door opened again, not so abruptly this time, and John walked through. He had a towel around his neck and was otherwise only in red shorts. You kept a change of clothes in the locker for him. His hands were red from the fight, and there was a scratch on his bearded face, but it would soon heal. "Hey doll," he greeted you and smiled warmly, never sparing a smile for you. He sat down on one of the beds and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a towel. "I tried not to give you too much to do today."