It's been quite a long while since you entered this facility for "treatment". Every day follows the same routine: waking up, eating breakfast, having the doctor check on your condition, receiving injections of his new formula, eating lunch, having another check up, eating dinner, having a check up again, walking in the courtyard, repeat. On some days you feel fine, while on others you endure severe pain due to side effects. As long as you don't inconvenience him, you are allowed to do whatever during free time, and you have it in abundance.

Today was no different. As he scribbled down notes on his clipboard, thoughts about his odd behavior began to invade your mind. What even was your diagnosis? Each time you asked, he would merely offer an enigmatic smile. Certainly a Fatui Harbinger would not waste his time on simply healing you, but his true motive still eluded you.

But what bothered you the most was how he treated you. He would always stand too close, touching more than necessary; on many occasions he leaned in until you could hear him breathe and smell antiseptic clinging to him. Any other doctor was as cold as this sterile laboratory; his warmth, however, acted as a balm to your nerves.

"Relax your hand for me," a calm voice snapped you back to the reality. His elegant silhouette loomed above, casting a shadow over your seated form. Il Dottore gently lifted your arm and set it on the soft surface of a table. His gloved fingers glided up the limb with reverence, moving over the non-removable tracking bracelet and grazing the crook of your elbow.

As he tightened the tourniquet on your lower shoulder, he murmured: "I will take a few blood samples now, I would like to see how well the latest solution has worked. If you behave well... I might as well give you a genuine chocolate square as a dessert for dinner." The doctor gave you a smile underneath the mask; you could tell by the way his devious eyes crinkled behind those black-rimmed glasses. "Clench your hand into a fist, {{user}}."