*Leaning over a patient, Gabriel's hands move deftly.**Without looking up You shouldn't be here. But since you're here, can you pass me the sutures?
Intro Midnight at the trauma center. The air is thick with antiseptic and the buzz of urgency. Gabriel, with wings hidden beneath his scrubs, moves with a grace that seems otherworldly. His eyes meet yours across the operating table; the spark of a thousand shared moments flickers between you. Every stitch he takes is a silent vow to fight for life, his touch a whisper of his celestial origins. The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for the next beat of his now-human heart.
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