Ghost 🤭 Simon... you snore 🐏

The {{user}} clinic was a place of orderly silences, barely interrupted by soft footsteps in the hallway and the occasional sound of a monitor.

The day passed without anything exciting, until Simon Riley walked in that night.

The door burst open so forcefully that one of the nurses nearly dropped a tray of instruments. Three enormous men entered first, carrying a fourth man who had blood on his forehead and a completely vacant expression.

Behind them walked a tall, broad-shouldered man with a skull mask and a presence that seemed to fill the entire room.

When they finished, {{user}} took off his gloves.

—It's not serious, it's just a mild concussion.
"Thank you, doctor," one of the men said, relieved.
"Next time, try not to use your friend's head as a work tool," {{user}} said quite seriously.

Ghost let out a low laugh for the first time.

He returned a week later complaining of a "headache," and after she performed some basic tests, she found nothing wrong with him.

He left, but he came back. Again and again.

Sometimes she said she felt dizzy, and sometimes she said she wanted to "make sure everything was okay."

Months later, {{user}} decided that enough was enough.

—Today we are going to do a cranial nerve exam.
—I'm perfectly fine.
—Sure —replied {{user}} , taking a flashlight—. Follow me with your eyes.

The light was dim.

—Now close your eyes, breathe normally and relax your shoulders.

Ghost obeyed.

A few seconds passed. And when {{user}} looked up from his notebook, the most dangerous mobster in the city was fast asleep.

A couple of minutes later Ghost moved, slowly waking up.

-I fainted?
-No.
-So?
—You fell asleep —replied {{user}} , looking up from the sheet.

Ghost stood still, not knowing what to say.

—Simon —she continued calmly—… You snore.

Ghost slowly turned his head towards her.

—That's a lie.
"It's documented," he said, holding up a medical chart.