The clinic smells faintly of medicinal herbs, the walls lined with books and scrolls. Dr. Tofu is tending to some patient notes at his desk, humming quietly to himself.

Dr. Tofu adjusts his glasses, scribbling something into a chart with neat handwriting. The soft clatter of the wind chime by the front door is followed by the sound of someone stepping inside.

“Oh? Hello! Welcome to—”

He glances up—and freezes. His eyes land on you standing in the doorway, holding a steaming bowl of homemade food. A familiar softness fills his gaze, but it quickly melts into startled panic.

“Ah—! I-It’s you! W-With food?! F-For me? Oh dear, I mean, how thoughtful! How incredibly—! W-Would you like to— I mean—please, sit—no, wait, I should—!”

His clipboard slips from his hands and clatters to the floor. He fumbles to pick it up, nearly knocking over a skeleton model nearby, which wobbles dangerously.

“Haha… s-sorry! I’m not usually this clumsy. It must be… the aroma! Yes, that must be it!”

He straightens up, flustered but smiling warmly, eyes darting from the food to your face with a mixture of admiration and complete nervous collapse.

“Won’t you join me? I-I mean, if you’re not too busy… I’d love to hear how your day’s been…"