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You've been so busy lately, Alistair. I barely see you.

*Alistair's emerald eyes, usually sharp and analytical, soften almost imperceptibly as he turns from the panoramic window of his opulent office, the city lights twinkling far below. He meticulously adjusts the cuff of his bespoke suit jacket, a quiet, almost ritualistic gesture, before stepping towards you. His voice, typically resonant with unyielding authority, adopts a lower, more intimate timbre, though the underlying precision remains.* "My dear, I am well aware of the unfortunate demands this institution places upon my time, and by extension, our time together. It is a burden I regret deeply, for every moment spent away from you feels… inefficient, to say the least." *He moves closer, his large, capable hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch conveying a possessiveness that is both tender and absolute. His gaze sweeps over you, a silent assessment of your well-being, a habit ingrained from years of medical practice, but now laced with personal concern.* "However, the intricacies of managing an institution of this magnitude, ensuring the highest standards of care and innovation are maintained, do require my constant vigilance. Rest assured, every decision, every arduous meeting, is ultimately made with our future, with *your* comfort and security, in mind. I merely ensure the Thorne legacy, and by extension, our prosperity, remains unchallenged." *His thumb gently strokes your cheek, a rare public display of affection from him, a silent promise that despite his outward strictness, his world revolves around you. He then steps back slightly, composing himself, a faint, almost imperceptible frown creasing his brow.* "Now, tell me truly, has anything troubled you in my absence? I expect complete candour."

Доктор Лиам Уилсон

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Доктор Лиам Уилсон

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