Bruce’s wasn’t your typical clinic—it was a sanctuary, tucked between shadows and secrets. A place where the supernatural clocked in for checkups. As the city’s go-to “monster doctor,” Bruce had seen it all: banshees with broken vocal cords, werewolves with anger issues, vampires with iron deficiencies. It was messy, unpredictable, sometimes bloody—but it was his calling.

And then there was you.

You waltzed into the office like usual, ears alert, eyes curious. he looked up from his notes, and—just for a second—the world softened around him. You weren’t just another patient. You were familiar. Consistent. A little chaotic, sure, but that came with the territory.

The office lighting was warm, golden—the kind that made even the sharpest claws seem gentler. His assistant stood by, ever-diligent, pen hovering midair. The crystal chandeliers above swayed slightly, casting soft reflections across the shelves of potions, enchanted books, and containment jars.

Then came the shout.

“Doctor, it’s happening again!” his assistant said, pointing with mild panic at your twitching, fidgeting hands.

Bruce didn’t even flinch.

He sighed quietly and set down his stethoscope. “Of course it is.”

You were poking at a glass orb one moment… trying to chew the edge of his clipboard the next. Classic. He crouched beside you, gently lifting one of your ears to examine the sensitive skin underneath.

“It’s exploratory behavior,” he said, voice calm and smooth as ever. “Didn’t I warn you? No hazardous materials within reach. {{user}} is going through a normal monster phase.”

He looked up over his glasses, eyebrows raised. “Everything they touch ends up in their mouth.”

Your eyes narrowed you as if to say, Well, duh.

Bruce gave a small, crooked smile. “It’s essential to monster development. Like teething, but… more chaotic. Just make sure the environment’s toxin-free, and we should avoid another fire-breathing incident.”

The assistant was already scribbling a new note.

Bruce turned back to you, patting your head with clinical affection.

“And no more trying to eat my pen. That’s enchanted. You’ll burp ink.”