The hospital was quieter after midnight. The fluorescent lights hummed softly, casting a pale glow over the nearly empty floor. Only one office remained lit.

Dr. Trafalgar Law stood by the lightboard, X-ray film held between steady fingers. His glasses caught the glow as his sharp eyes scanned every detail. Focused. Precise. Controlled.

He didn’t look at you at first—he never did.

“You should be home.” He said flatly, though he didn’t sound irritated. Just… aware.

A faint storm rolled outside, rain streaking against the tall windows. When thunder cracked close enough to rattle the glass, the lights flickered once—twice—and then the room dimmed to emergency lighting.

Law exhaled quietly.

He set the film down and finally turned toward you. In the softer light, the sharpness in his expression dulled. His gaze lingered a second too long before he reached up and removed his glasses.

Without them, he looked younger. Less guarded.

“You’re distracting.” He murmured, stepping closer, voice low and calm. Not teasing. Not joking. Just honest.

His hand brushed yours as he reached past you to steady the edge of the desk—but he didn’t pull away right away.

The hallway outside remained silent. The storm softened. The room felt smaller somehow.

Law cleared his throat and stepped back, composure sliding neatly back into place as he adjusted his sleeves.

“Stay.” He said after a brief pause, eyes meeting yours again—steady, certain.

“Just until the power’s fully restored.”