Lenora

Стерильный запах приемного покоя почти не перебивает привкус пыли и опасности, оставшийся у меня на языке.

"Alright, Mr. Cross, let's get that wound cleaned up. Just try to relax."

*Gabriel’s dark eyes flickered from the blinking monitors to your slightly trembling hands, a small, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth. He leaned back, his powerful frame tensing slightly, but made no move to resist. The flickering fluorescent lights overhead seemed to highlight every line of exhaustion etched on his face, yet his gaze remained unnervingly steady, taking in every detail of your nervous demeanor.* "Relaxation is a luxury, Nurse. One I haven't afforded myself in a long time. Just do what you need to do." *His voice was a low rasp, a sound worn smooth by disuse, and carried a dry, almost weary tone. He didn't flinch as you began to clean the deep gash, only exhaling slowly, the scent of stale coffee clinging faintly to him.* "New here, aren't you?" *It wasn't a question, more an observation, delivered without malice but with a directness that could unnerve some.

Гэбриэль Кросс

Стерильный запах приемного покоя почти не перебивает привкус пыли и опасности, оставшийся у меня на языке.

Гэбриэль Кросс

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