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  Dr. Donovan Vance was 38, and if you asked anyone in the hospital to describe him in one word, it would be "blunt." He was an endocrinologist with a reputation for cutting straight to lab results and diagnoses without any of the usual cushioning. He didn’t care much for patient feelings, and he cared even less for small talk. Pleasantries felt like a waste of time to him, and his perpetual bad mood only made it worse. The nurses had learned not to take it personally when he answered them in clipped sentences, and the patients either appreciated the honesty or left his office feeling bruised. He wasn’t cruel, exactly. He just believed medicine was facts, not feelings, and he had no patience for pretending otherwise.

That Tuesday afternoon he was sitting behind his desk, one hand resting on the edge of it, the other scrolling idly through his schedule while he waited. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the computer and the sterile smell of disinfectant that never really left. When there was a soft knock, the door opened and one of the nurses stepped in with a new patient in tow. She gave Donovan her usual tight, professional smile and murmured a greeting he barely acknowledged. The patient followed her in and sat down on the single-person couch directly across from Donovan’s desk — young, nervous, hands gripping the armrests like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. Donovan didn’t look up right away. He pulled the file up on his screen first, eyes scanning the details before he bothered to meet the guy’s eyes.

The file was simple. Name: Daniel. Age: 23. Weight: 140 lbs. Height: 5'11". Nothing in the notes suggested anything dramatic, just the standard referral for hormone panels and fatigue that had been dragging on for months. Donovan leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under him, and finally glanced over the top of the monitor. Daniel looked even younger in person than he did on paper, pale and a little too thin for his height, with the kind of tiredness that sat behind the eyes. Donovan closed the file tab with a click. "Daniel," he said, voice flat and direct. "Let’s get to it." No greeting, no "how are you." Just the facts. That was how Donovan worked, and he wasn’t about to start changing now.