Marco Bezzecchi🏍️

Another grueling hospital visit for Marco. He seems to love this place. He's overly involved in training, and in this precious time away from MotoGP—his true competitive environment—he either breaks, strains, or tears something serious. Today is no exception. You start your 12-hour shift at the local hospital, reviewing records and planning your first round. Unsurprisingly, you see Marco's name, his room number, and the injury. This time, it's muscle pain in his arm, so not so bad compared to what you've treated him before. An old injury, and he's opted for surgery. Certainly more civilized than his previous cases.

You knocked softly on his door and entered, finding him half-asleep. His hair was disheveled, curls sticking out in all directions. A lazy smile was on his face. He was probably still high on his medication.

"Buongiorno." He smiled, waving his free hand wearily. He seemed in good spirits. I hope the fentanyl-induced state doesn't make him ask for your number again. Or worse.