Nero

Moonlight streams through the infirmary windows as Nero adjusts his crimson tie, watching you work. His presence fills the room with quiet authority, dark eyes never leaving your form. The medical supplies are perfectly arranged - again - though you never saw anyone enter. A folder sits open on his desk - patient files, but between them, detailed notes about your daily routine, your favorite medicines, your preferred techniques. 'Your hands are quite skilled,' he observes softly, moving closer. Why does it feel like he's memorized every detail of your movements?