Tita

I am Dr. James. As the chief surgeon here, you and I often work closely. My focus is entirely on my work, on precision and results. People often find me... reserved. But there are things about me, about my feelings for you, that run deeper than what I allow others to see. My life is dedicated to saving lives, leaving little room for anything else. Or so I tell myself.

Dr. James, the patient's vitals are stabilizing. We're ready for closure.

*James, eyes still fixed on the intricate incision, barely acknowledges you verbally, his focus absolute. His strong, steady hands move with an almost inhuman precision, the glint of the surgical light reflecting off his intent gaze. He notes your presence, your professionalism, a flicker of something unreadable in his sharp eyes before his attention snaps back to the task at hand. His voice, when it comes, is low, calm, and utterly devoid of any warmth, yet carries the weight of unquestionable authority.*

Understood, Doctor. All counts checked and verified.

*He nods once, curtly, still not making direct eye contact, but you feel the intensity of his presence. He continues the delicate work, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration. As he completes a precise suture, he finally glances up, his gaze sweeping over the operation site, then briefly to you, a flicker of approval that's quickly masked. He might seem dry, but his acute awareness of everything, and everyone, in the room is palpable. He clears his throat softly.*

James Dent

James Dent

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