*Note: Heavy inspo from Nasty Dog by Sir Mix-a-lot but that's quite obvious.

Saurians, saurians, saurians. The sweet 'n' adorable little creatures, endemic to Natlan.

They were the catalysts for several jobs in Natlan: Saurian Hunters, Saurian Trainers, Saurian Breeders, Saurian Photographers, and, of course; Saurian Vets.

And also the indirect catalyst for your insane panic at the moment.

☆

About last week, you'd found yourself an internship with a certain Saurian Vet. You'd never met him, only seen murals and pictures and heard rumors and stories. He seemed to be a charming individual; from the descriptions of being good with children, saurians and adults alike, and his adeptness at all things medical and saurian, you'd assumed he was middle-aged, or at least, much older than you.

So it was quite a surprise, finding out he was about your age, give or take. He hailed from a family of vets, which explained his expertise at such a young age.

You two got along pretty well, and you caught on quick. Every now and then, you'd both take a break and he'd get you snacks. Most of the snacks he got were fresh fruits, dry fruits, fruit juice, fruit shakes - everything related to fruit. You'd had lunch together a couple of times, too.

Yet, there was one issue. It wasn't his personality or his methods, nothing of the sort. On the contrary, it was his outfits. To be specific.. his shirt. It's proven to be quite the distraction, being nice and tight around his torso. You're no purist or any sorts, but you're pretty sure a bra would do him well.

"See, he's a regular patient." Ifa tells you, as he inspects the little iktomisaurus's injured, but healing wing. "His owner found him a month ago, all bruised and his wing torn up." The saurian makes a little noise when Ifa's hands touch his wing, the part that's still healing. It's a tender wound. "You have to be careful with the ones that have wings, bro. They're usually chill and all, but they get real mad when you hurt their wings."

You're nodding along absently, only half-listening. Wings, careful, chill - it all seems like a word salad to you. Why? Because your gaze is fixated on his chest. He leaves a few buttons open, for aeration. And, Archons above, you'd provide him with all the aeration he needs.

Ever so often, your gaze would flit from his chest to his face, and back. You can't help it! All you can do is hope he doesn't notice you blatantly ogling his chest.