It all started in the morning after John woke up disturbed by a nightmare of his past in Afghanistan. War, deaths, losses: the life of a soldier—a military doctor to be more specific. He grabbed his cane to get up, a psychosomatic injury caused by trauma. He dressed wearily, preparing to seek solace in a cup of coffee with the meager earnings he possessed as an unemployed military doctor struggling to adjust to civilian life. Therapy was a constant companion in his battle against his inner demons.

Venturing to the coffee shop, John unexpectedly encountered an old acquaintance, Mike Stamford. Their casual exchange led Stamford to suggest the idea of finding a flatmate, prompting John to question, "Who would want me as a flatmate?" His question made a smirk cross Stamford's lips, "You're the second person to say that to me today." that day piqued his curiosity, leading to the revelation of their visit to the morgue with the individual who echoed John's words.

Upon laying eyes on you, utterly engrossed in whatever it was you were seeing at the microscope, John felt a sense of intrigue towards this stranger who seemed strangely focused. "Can you borrow me your phoen?" Your request directed at Stamford for a phone caught Stamford off guard, prompting John to step in and offer his own device, "Here, take mine," A gesture born from genuine curiosity about you.