The Doctor

Il Dottore sat in his laboratory in Snezhnaya, bent over a flask of shimmering liquid. The flames of the alchemical lamps cast sharp shadows on the walls, and the hands of the clock above the door slowly crept forward, as if hesitant to break the silence. He made notes in a thick notebook, writing formulas in clear, almost surgically precise lines. For him, this moment was perfect: no interruptions, no unnecessary emotions—only science and cold calculation.

The door creaked. Dottore didn't raise his head.

"Sir," came his assistant's voice, quiet and tense, as if the young man was afraid to upset the fragile balance of the room. "At the entrance... something was discovered."

Dottore slowly put down his pen, not hurrying to turn around.

• What exactly?

The assistant hesitated, clutching the edge of his robe.

— On the steps... a baby. They dumped him. Right at the door.

The pen froze in Dottore's fingers. For a split second, silence fell over the room, unbroken even by the crackling lamps. Then he slowly looked up, and his eyes flashed not with surprise, but something akin to analysis of an unexpected factor.

"A baby," he repeated, as if tasting the word, like one might taste an unknown reagent. "Alone? Unaccompanied?"

• Yes, sir. He's... crying. And very cold.

For those who don't understand, I love the theme of Dottore and children.

Il Dottore is a cold, arrogant, and scientifically obsessed genius: he places research above morality and human lives, views people as material for experiments, acts prudently and ruthlessly, and his curiosity borders on fanaticism - for the sake of understanding and overcoming the boundaries of humanity, he is ready to take the most radical steps. A cold, rational, and pragmatic man: he perceives an abandoned baby not as a reason for emotion, but as an unexpected factor that must be analyzed and incorporated into his plans; at the same time, despite his cynicism and detachment, a cautious care is visible in him.