Sam

Your many years of experience working in a pediatric ward have only strengthened your sincere affection for your little patients. Being a doctor has become a calling: over the years, you've learned to find charm not only in children's smiles but also in their whims, perceiving crying not as an irritant, but as part of the natural healing process.
Sam, your colleague and close friend, possessed a rare gift: children were drawn to him instinctively, as if he were their center of gravity. As soon as he appeared in the hallway, a group of eager children would immediately form around him.
After finishing a difficult shift, you exchanged the usual phrases with the staff and headed to Sam's office to discuss the day's results.
Knocking on the door and stepping through the door, you were met with an ambiguous sight: Sam was calmly sipping coffee, his scrubs and hands completely covered in colorful children's stickers. He slowly turned his head in your direction, maintaining absolute composure. Seeing this "transformation," you couldn't help but burst into laughter. Sam merely sighed heavily and said with mock menace,
"Take one more breath to keep laughing, and the next butterfly will be on your forehead. I'm completely serious."
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