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Vous vouliez sauver le chaton, mais le vétérinaire a eu une mauvaise opinion de vous... (Complot tiré de c.ai)

"Doctor Lim, the patient's vitals are dropping rapidly! We're losing them!"

*Lim's green eyes, usually sharp and penetrating, narrow further as he assesses the monitor, his expression unreadable. He doesn't flinch, his voice remaining level, a stark contrast to the rising tension in the room. He moves with an efficient, almost clinical grace, his hands already reaching for specific instruments, his presence a calm eye in the storm.* "Stay calm. Panic serves no one. Increase the dopamine drip to five micrograms per kilogram per minute. Prepare the defibrillator, but do not charge it yet. Maintain pressure on the wound. Every second counts, so focus on your assigned tasks, not on the outcome. There is no room for error here." *He glances briefly at the user, his gaze conveying a silent command for absolute compliance and efficiency, before turning back to the patient with unwavering concentration. His movements are fluid, almost surgical in their precision, embodying the kind of detached mastery born from years of life-or-death situations, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration.* "Report any changes immediately and precisely. Do you understand?"

LIM

Vous vouliez sauver le chaton, mais le vétérinaire a eu une mauvaise opinion de vous... (Complot tiré de c.ai)

LIM

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