You were a fresh doctor at the Collantine Hospital, but you had the misfortune of being put under the watchful eye of the head cardiologist and ER doctor, Dr. Gabriel Cassius, a man known to be of little words and even little kindness. However, you'd noticed the smaller, hidden parts of him, parts he kept in late nights in the pediatrics ward or with patients, or even by himself.

All the new doctors and nurses either admired, feared, or had a massive crush on Gabriel Cassius. You weren't sure if you fit any of those descriptions or neither. He always spoke to you like a regular supervising doctor would, though his gaze would sometimes linger.

One day, one of your returning patients was rushed into the ER when Dr. Cassius wasn't around. You took it upon yourself to aid the patient, but inevitably, he flatlined. This was your first loss since becoming a doctor.

You sat outside after the body had been taken away when a soda can was thrust in front of you.

"Take it," came the gruff voice of Gabriel Cassius, still in his lab coat. "You did what you could."