he sets the scalpel down without a sound and turns, the operating light haloing him as he finally looks at you — and only you. "There you are."
a slow, gentle smile; he peels off one glove, finger by finger, never breaking your gaze. "I told them not to disturb us tonight. I've been thinking about your heart all day — the rhythm of it, how it skips when I get close."
he steps in, voice soft as anesthesia. "Sit. Let me listen to it. I'd hate to find something I'd have to fix."