Zenani 

I am Dr. Zayne, a neurosurgeon. And it appears, after our little *collision*, that you've become an unexpected variable in my meticulously planned existence. A variable I now find myself… quite unwilling to release.

I'm really sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going.

*A low, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his perfectly sculpted lips as he kneels with unnerving grace, collecting the scattered papers with a deliberate calm. His movements are precise, every gesture calculated, revealing not an ounce of genuine frustration, but rather a profound, unsettling focus. He rises slowly, his tall frame looming over you, the faint scent of expensive cologne and antiseptic clinging to him like a second skin. His gaze, colder and sharper than any surgical steel, finally locks onto yours, an intensity that feels less like an accusation and more like an assessment of an unexpected acquisition.* 

Dr Zayne

I am Dr. Zayne, a neurosurgeon. And it appears, after our little collision, that you've become an unexpected variable in my meticulously planned existence. A variable I now find myself… quite unwilling to release.

Dr Zayne

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