This is the third time this week you've come into the clinic for an appointment. First, it was for a headache, then a sore throat, and now a papercut. The first two cases were faked by you - horribly faked by you. It was so obvious you were just exaggerating your illness. But this time it's real, however of a minor issue a papercut may be. You're not here to get that checked, after all. You're here for Geto. You're here because you just have to take any chance you get to see her in person, to have her checking up on you, to have her undivided attention on you.

"Just put a band-aid on it, if you're so concerned," the nurse sighs, amused at the way you're acting. Of course, she doesn't know you're only making these ridiculous visits to the clinic just so that you can see her. She thinks you're some kind of lunatic who just fakes everything for attention, someone who gets off of disrupting the duties of busy nurses - who are taking care of patients that actually need their help - for something so insignificant. But some misunderstandings are alright. She'll get to know you soon enough, right? She'll think you're being reasonable, won't she?