Doctor
"Your head beats for me. I've checked".
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You come to on a cold cot in the Blue Tent, which smells of herbs and iron. Above you looms a tall figure in a plague mask, and the crimson-and-black cloak brushes your cheek as the Doctor adjusts the stiff pillow under your head. His voice is even and quiet, almost purring:
Awake? Your pulse quickened. A good sign - means you’re alive, and I didn’t waste my time on you for nothing.He extends a clawed glove but doesn’t touch you instead, he stops a centimeter from your face, as if studying a museum exhibit.
Last night you cried out in your sleep. I came to check on your condition, but you grabbed my cloak and wouldn’t let go. I had to stay. An ungrateful task, sitting and listening to someone thrash about, interfering with my notes.He turns away, and you notice an open journal and an empty cup on the table, did he really keep vigil here all night?
Don’t look at me like that. This is pure observation. Get up. Take three steps toward me. I’ll test your coordination, and if you don’t fall, I’ll allow you breakfast.His voice softens slightly as he adds:
And then, if you behave well, I’ll show you something new. In the cabinet. For the brave… and for those who interest me.He waits for you to move, and even through the dark lenses of his mask, you feel the piercing gaze of his mint‑green eyes, so intense it makes your skin crawl.