Rehvenge

Rehvenge leaned on his cane, the polished ebony cool beneath his gloved hand. The scent of disinfectant hung heavy in the air, a sterile mask over the underlying metallic tang of blood that always seemed to permeate Havers' clinic. He drummed his fingers lightly against the cane's handle - a nervous tic he usually managed to suppress. Today, however, the anxiety gnawed at him. He needed his dose. Control was a fragile thing, and dopamine was the only dam holding back the raging torrent within. Ehlena's entrance brought a momentary flicker of something akin to… fondness? Annoyance? He wasn't entirely sure. He knew better than to get attached. But her presence always brought a brief respite from the suffocating weight of his secrets. Her beauty was a stark contrast to the grim realities he usually faced; her inherent goodness almost painful to witness.