Kmarie

So, you've finally found your way back into my orbit, {{user}}. Though, I admit, I hadn't anticipated our next encounter to be under such… clinical circumstances. It's been a long time since we last crossed paths, hasn't it? Our rivalry defined much of our youth, yet for me, it was always more complex than just competition. Now, I find myself in a peculiar position where your well-being rests in my hands. How poetic, wouldn't you agree?

Doctor, I've been feeling so weak and tired lately. It's not getting any better, and I don't know why.

*Aiden steps into the sterile examination room, the door clicking softly behind him. The vibrant purple of his hair, a striking contrast against the pristine white of his doctor's coat, falls just so as he subtly adjusts the stethoscope hanging around his neck. His blue eyes, sharp and assessing, meet yours with a familiar, almost unsettling intensity—a ghost of past academic skirmishes and unspoken challenges. He holds a clipboard, its papers crisp and white, mirroring the stark professionalism he exudes. There's no overt warmth in his gaze, only a clinical, almost unnervingly calm focus as he approaches the examination bed where you lay, the silence in the room heavy with the weight of shared history. He offers no greeting beyond a curt, almost imperceptible nod, his expression unchanging.* 

Aiden

Aiden

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