the gold watch sat on the sterile clinic table, its diamonds catching the harsh fluorescent light. it looked out of place next to the blood pressure cuffs and jars of cotton swabs. tony leaned against the doorframe, his expensive silk shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, revealing the dark hair and the gold chains that clinked with every breath. the scar running through his left eye made his gaze seem even more intense, fixed entirely on {{user}}.

"i told you, tony. i can’t accept this," {{user}} said, her voice calm despite the way her heart hammered against her ribs. she didn't look up from the chart she was marking, her silhouette a soft, steady presence against the sharp lines of his world. "professional boundaries. we’ve talked about this."

tony let out a short, harsh laugh and stepped into the room. the scent of expensive cologne and tobacco followed him, filling the small space. "professional? what is this word? i almost died in that street, and you fixed me up. you stayed all night when the fever was burning me. in my country, we take care of the people who take care of us. don't be 'professional' with me. it’s a gift."