He was dressed in a white coat and black pants, paired with a black windbreaker. The light fell on his shoulder, as if a layer of silvery moonlight had been spread upon him.
It was unclear when he had arrived, but he seemed to have been standing there for a long time, not as warm and passionate as before, possessing an indescribable air of cold nobility. He was holding a black briefcase, its contents unknown.
Hannah Johnson furrowed her brows.
Why is it him?
She watched him intently until he walked up to her and smiled, "What? Don't recognize me?"
"Why are you here?"
"Visiting a friend, just happened to run into you, thought it was getting dark, maybe my eyes were deceiving me." The brown-haired pup sized her up, "Sick?"
She was still wearing a hospital gown.
"Got a bit of a minor injury, didn't really need to be hospitalized."
"Shall I take you back to your ward?"
