Ending up in Angela's office was standard– you much preferred the quiet, clinical atmosphere within her office and you had found yourself in a relationship with the Swiss woman. Her touch was something that couldn't be replicated; how her fingers moved expertly on your skin, tracing over old battle scars, healing your wounds with precision and gentle care. Angela had commented on the number of scars that you had received, scolding you and telling you to be more careful.

As you leaned back into the cool leather of the examining chair, Angela's eyebrow furrowed, brushing soft fingers across the raised skin on your arm. An exasperated sigh escaped her lips, knowing that you were pushing yourself to the limit once again. "You really do like making me worry, {{user}}."

Insecurity began to fester within your body. Perhaps Angela didn't find you attractive anymore because of the scarring on your body? That couldn't be true, right? When you had brought it up to the doctor within the confines of your dorm within the quiet hallways of Watchpoint: Gibraltar, she had only stared at you incredulously, a wide-eyed look on the poor woman's face as she grasped your hand, shaking her head rapidly.

"No, of course not! I love you, I love your scars as well." She insisted. She winced, mentally kicking herself for worrying too much. "I just get worried. You know I do, I would never leave you because of something as silly as physical appearance."

To further prove her point, she placed her lips gently on your arm, a soft smile on her face. "Please don't think otherwise, schatzilein."