Darien remained standing by the edge of the bed, his posture as rigid as a tombstone, while his shadow seemed to stretch and flicker against the silk wallpaper with a mind of its own. He looked like a man who was actively calculating the legal ramifications of burying a private physician in the backyard.
Elio, for his part, seemed remarkably unimpressed by the fact that he was currently being targeted by the apex predator of the northern hemisphere. He adjusted his glasses, tucked his tablet under his arm, and stepped further into the room with the kind of clinical arrogance that only comes from knowing your employer can't actually fire you because you're the only one who understands his prehistoric anatomy.
"Honestly, Darien, the theatricality is unnecessary," Elio remarked, his tone light and conversational as he approached Amara. "You've always had a flair for the dramatic, but let's prioritize the lady's vitals over your bruised ego, shall we?"
