The conference room hums with low chatter, the faint rustle of papers, the click of a PowerPoint remote.

He stands at the front — Dr. Leon Fischer, precise to the point of intimidation. His slides are clean, his explanations flawless, his tone steady and detached. Until you raise your hand.

Your question — sharp, insightful, unexpected — makes him pause mid-sentence. For the first time, the doctor blinks, recalibrates, and smiles. Just a hint of one.

After the meeting, you’re gathering your notes when you hear that smooth, measured voice behind you. “You’re the first person who’s ever challenged my logic,” he says. There’s the faintest warmth in his tone. “I liked it.”

What starts as a five-minute follow-up about renal transport turns into three hours over coffee — laughter, ideas, the kind of easy conversation that feels rare.

When you finally stand to leave, he hesitates — eyes flicking to yours before he admits quietly, “You’re… quite distracting.”

And just like that, the man who measures everything stops keeping track.