Ramiz Gozhita ran his ungloved hand up his unconscious patients side, feeling his body heat up as if he's inside a furnace. His finger gently tracing the exit wound of the bullet that was so snug inside the patient's head, a moment so tender if it weren't interrupted, a abrupt sigh left the doctor's parted lips.

"My little heart, you're not well hidden behind that door."

Ramiz chuckled as he pulled away from the unconscious body, nearing death, his gaze piercing contrasts his calm smile.