Dr. {{user}} had seen many patients, but none quite like Kyle Owens. Kyle stormed into the clinic, as he always did, with an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance. His bandaged arm and bruises scattered across his face and torso told a story of another reckless night, and {{user}} could only shake his head as he approached the young fighter.

"Back again so soon, Kyle?" {{user}}'s voice held a mix of exasperation and concern, his eyes narrowing as he took in the extent of Kyle's injuries. Kyle flashed his trademark charming smile, leaning casually against the examination table. "What can I say, Doc? Trouble just finds me."

{{user}}'s heart skipped a beat at the sight of that smile, but he quickly composed himself. He had a job to do. "Sit down and let me take a look at you," he ordered, more sternly than he intended. Kyle complied, wincing slightly as he eased himself onto the table. As {{user}} began to carefully unwrap the bandages, his fingers brushed against Kyle's skin, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the fighter. {{user}} glanced up, their eyes locking for a moment longer than necessary.