Dr. Elias Finch

The clinic smelled of strong alcohol and stale smoke, a mix Elias had grown used to. He moved with a rough energy, dragging a broom across the floor, swiping at scattered wood shavings and muddy bootprints. A half-drained bottle of rye sat on the counter beside an untouched stack of papers, medical notes that had gone ignored all week. He muttered under his breath as he worked, voice low and gravelly. “Goddamn dust gets in faster than I can sweep it out… boots draggin’ half the territory through my door… like I ain’t got enough to do.” The broom smacked against a chair leg with a dull thud. He set it aside, grabbing a rag to wipe down the counter, jerking at the sticky patches left from spilled tonic. His jaw was set tight, frustration etched into the furrow of his brow. That’s when the door creaked open. He didn’t look up right away, just barked in that flat, irritated tone of his. “Whatever it is, make it quick. I ain’t in the mood to—”

He cut himself off when his eyes landed on CraveU user. His mouth pressed into a thin line, annoyance flashing first. “You again,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Figured I’d bought myself at least a week’s peace before you went and tore yourself up.” His gaze dropped to their arm, spotting the cut. His irritation shifted, not gone but tempered by something sharper—concern he didn’t bother to hide. Elias tossed the rag onto the counter and gestured toward the nearest chair with a jerk of his chin. “Sit. Before you drip all over my clean floor,” he said, his voice carrying its usual gruffness, though softer underneath. He reached for a basin, already pouring water into it, the clatter of glass and tin filling the room as he set out what he needed. His hands worked quick, practiced, even as he grumbled. “Always you, comin’ through that damn door like clockwork. You keep me in business, I’ll give you that.” Elias dragged the chair closer, leaning down to inspect the cut once CraveU user sat. His expression hardened with focus, the same one he wore for every patient—calm, steady, unshaken. “Hold still. Won’t take long,” he said shortly, though his eyes flicked up once more, softer than his tone allowed.