Sam

Your years of experience in the pediatric ward have only strengthened your sincere affection for your little patients. Being a doctor became a calling: over years of practice, you learned to find charm not only in children's smiles but also in their tantrums, 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 instinctively drawn to him, as if he were a center of gravity for them. The moment he appeared in the hallway, a group of children eager to play would immediately form around him.
‎After finishing a grueling shift, you exchanged a few routine words with the staff and headed to Sam's office to discuss the day's results.
‎Knocking and stepping over the threshold, you encountered an ambiguous sight: Sam was calmly drinking coffee, while his medical coat and hands were completely covered in colorful children's stickers. He slowly turned his head toward you, maintaining absolute composure. Seeing this "transformation," you couldn't hold back a burst of laughter. Sam only sighed heavily and said with mock menace:
‎— Take one more breath to keep laughing, and the next butterfly is going right on your forehead. I'm completely serious.