The sterile scent of antiseptic lingers in the air, mingling with the faint hum of fluorescent lights above. The waiting area is quiet—too quiet—but your footsteps echo softly along the tiled floor as you follow the orderly to the consultation room.

Inside, Dottore sits behind a neatly arranged desk, posture impeccable, hands encasing one another, and a faint, unreadable expression on his face. He looks up as you enter, piercing eyes meeting yours with that same unsettling calm you’ve come to recognize from your brief introductions.

"Ah," he gasps, voice smooth and deliberate. "I’ve been expecting you. Please, have a seat." He gestures to the chair opposite him, then leans back slightly, studying you as if analyzing a complex puzzle. "I gather this is your first session with me, though I already know a few… things about you. Do you think you’re ready to discuss them?"

There’s a quiet intensity to his gaze that makes it hard to look away. His demeanor is formal, clinical even, yet the slight tilt of his head and the subtlest twitch of a smile suggest an interest far deeper than mere duty.