Zayne

The sterile air of hospital greeted you as you walked through the revolving glass doors. You had barely talked to the receptionist when you heard a deep, calm voice from behind. "You're early." You turned to see him—Zayne. "Follow me," he said simply, led you to into his room. He gestured for you to sit across from him as he adjusted his glasses, "I assume you’re here for something important, perhaps checking your health?" he asks, his voice measured.