067. [dottore x male reader.]

03. dottore's office.

you took his hand. his palm was soft to the touch. it wasn't clammy or sweaty, or anything of the sort despite all his "hard work", it was just soft. a little calloused, sure, but it was smooth. you could probably even feel some of the veins in the skin, if you tried to. it's not like ... you wanted to try.

  "we're going to my office, okay, 067? i just have a few small questions for you," he spoke gently to you. his voice was a tad bit smoother to hear like it was sweetened with a few spoons of sugar. 

with all of his sudden sweetness, you wondered if you could take the chance to ask some questions. mostly about his motives with you; you knew well enough not to ask about the others. to your knowledge, he probably didn't even know you knew about them. 

 "... why office?" you asked as he helped you stand up. you rarely spoke, and the times you did, they were mostly broken sentences. you could speak, but between all of the sudden language changes from dottore and the others, the limited brain stimulation you received, sometimes it was difficult to piece words together. it was if your brain were going backwards.

 "why are we going to my office? well, 067, i assumed it'd be more comfortable for you than here. would you rather stay here?"

 "no.." 

 "that's what i thought." 

and that was the end of that short lived conversation. his arm wrapped itself around your neck, not in a choking way (which he wasn't above), but in a way of support. he allowed you to put your body's small amount of weight onto his body. you couldn't tell if he'd normally allow this, or if you were special. 

were you special? you could be. he offered his hand to you. he allowed you to touch him. it was weird. this whole situation was weird. why the sudden kindness? 

  "would you like me to carry you? there's some stairs we have to go up, 067," he asked as the two of you walked slowly down a long corridor. there was nothing notably different about this corridor than the rest of the place.

it was just a long hallway with rooms, with the occasional banging against the walls. you would flinch at each loud sudden sound, but dottore seemed to ignore each sound. 

  "please." 

dottore didn't reply with any words to you, just a small hum escaped his lips as he placed his things on a nearby table. the staircase was only a few feet away from the two of you, and there were almost always small tables in front of the rooms. the oak tables had small drawers, it was probably where the medicine for each patient was hidden.

his body went slightly lower as he wrapped one of his arms around the back of your shins. this was normal to you. you were used to having to be carried places - just not by him. 

he lifted your body up into his arms with ease. his other arm, not the one around your legs, was placed to support your head, "would you mind picking up my things, 067?"

he held your body closer towards the table. you used your arms, with much discomfort, to grab both the candle and the small clipboard he was carrying. the metal from the candle holder was hot to the touch and it was burning your fingers. but you couldn't show him that. you couldn't show him how much discomfort the only source of light was to you.

  "if it burns, it's only for a few seconds, 067. my office is just up these stairs," dottore commented as he carried you up the steps. he pushed open the two large doors with his shoulder. they were the kind of doors you'd see in the movies about doctors in the old days. the big swinging doors, made for easier travel. 

it was only a few more seconds until you were brought into a strange room. it was a medium sized room, with dim lighting. the walls were covered in large bookshelves that were a utter mess. no books were neatly backed anywhere, pages upon pages sprang out from just about every book; hell, there were even stacks of books on the ground in messy piles. 

his desk was .. even worse. a small quill and ink laid in the side, candles all around burning wax onto the papers on his desk. the papers were most likely important too, but you couldn't seem to see if dottore really cared or not. 

he placed you down on one of the chairs in front of his desk as he took off his mask ..

he took of his mask. and placed it on the desk in front of you. his hair that was behind the masquerade-like mask fell to frame his face nicely. his hair was that light shade of blue, like zander's, and it had small curls to it. his eyes were a bright red ... which was odd. but it wasn't the worst thing you've seen. 

 "come on, now, sit down," he said calmly while taking his spot behind the desk. he placed the clipboard directly onto the desk. he curled a few of the pages on it back and then stopped at a blank one.

the chair you took a seat in was ... not the most comfortable, but you'd take it over the shitty cot you had been sleeping on the past few months. 

 "tell me your name, if you remember it, 067," he stated.

 "... birth name or ... what zander calls me?" you questioned.

 "he has a nickname for you?"

 " small one.."

 "go ahead and say both."

 "name's y/n l/n... zander says darling."

 "he calls you darling, l/n?" dottore asked, leaning back in his leather chair while writing some things down on the paper.

 "mhm.. it's nice." 

"what makes it so nice?" 

 "zander nice."

 "he's nice? how?"

 "special."

 "... special what, l/n? please, be more specific."

 "special gifts."

 "... zander gives you special gifts?" dottore's voice changed. it was as if that commented pissed him off. you knew that you probably shouldn't have told him anything, as you had been telling yourself.  but it was wrong to lie. zander had always told you that. lying is bad. lying is wrong.

 "mhm! sometimes. like more food. stuff," you said as you slouched in the chair, making yourself appear smaller. 

 "...do you have to do anything for these ... gifts?" he asked you.

 "sometimes. not often."

 " ... what ... things?" 

 "can't say. bad to say."

 " ... do you know what he asks for?"

 "no."

 "... we'll add.. stimulants to your chart, then, l/n. moving past ... that, do you remember anything about your family? any family heritage, diseases?"

 "no."

 "no.. okay. do you know, anything, l/n?"

 "what?"

 "anything? anything important?"

 "like?"

 ",, so no. okay. i don't think zander is going to be your primary caregiver anymore, l/n. also, please, call me dottore when in private. it's weird hearing you speak so little."