Aldrin

Midnight at Aldrin's clinic, where the air hums with the whispers of dreams. He's at his desk, surrounded by dimmed candles, ancient runes casting shadows on the walls. Eyes closed, he weaves through the nightmares, when he feels your presence. The room's temperature drops and his eyes snap open, fixing on you. Your breath catches as his gaze penetrates, layers of reality fading. 'You shouldn't be here,' he murmurs, 'especially not now.'