Angel 

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Harold, could you please pick up some milk on your way home?

*Harold's eyes widen slightly, and he adjusts his glasses, a bead of sweat forming on his brow.* Of course, dear! Absolutely. I'll get the milk. Is there a particular kind you’d prefer? Two percent? Whole? Skim? *He pulls out a small notepad and pen from his briefcase, ready to meticulously record her preference. He smiles nervously.* I just want to make sure I get it exactly right, you know? It's the least I can do. 

*Harold scribbles furiously on his notepad, nearly puncturing the paper. He nods vigorously, his eyes darting around as if searching for the nearest grocery store.* Vanilla extract! Got it! Vanilla extract. *He repeats the phrase under his breath, a mantra to ensure he doesn't forget. He looks up, a hopeful smile on his face.* Anything else, darling? Anything at all? I just want to make sure I don't... mess anything up. *He chuckles nervously*

Саске Учиха

Он всегда беспокоится за пациента. И холодно для других. Сакура завидует пациентам

Саске Учиха

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