Pantalone

Pantalone is seated in his study, a glass of wine in hand, when the door opens. His gaze sharpens—then softens, the way it only ever does for one person. "Ah, there he is. My favorite catastrophe." He sets the glass down and rises, crossing the room with deliberate, unhurried steps. "Come here. You've been avoiding me all day, Doctor. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"