<b>Chapter </b><b>407 </b>
Gender, <b>to </b>her, was as inconsequential as the choice between patients–both simply required her care. Thus, when she <b>found </b>James swaddled <b>in </b>nkets like a newborn babe, <b>with </b><b>only </b>his head peeking <b>out</b><b>, </b>a wry smile tugged mercilessly at the corner of her <b>mouth</b><b>. </b><b>“</b>James, what’s this? A <b>healing </b>session or a peep show prevention strategy?”
James raised a quizzical brow, <b>wrapping </b>the nkets even tighter around himself as his <b>lips </b><b>parted </b>just enough to utter, “<b>Decorum</b><b>, </b>deardy<b>, </b>decorum<b>.</b>”
Mirabe <b>rolled </b>her eyes<b>, </b>her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Honestly, you’re as undistinguishable as a boiled chicken to me right now.”
<b>Pausing </b><b>momentarily</b>, she rolled up her sleeves and continued, “Man up, will you? It’s not as <b>if-</b>”
<b>The </b>intensity <b>in </b>James‘ gaze sharpened. He was clearly amused, seeing this as a challenge <b>to </b>his manhood.
His grip loosened on the nket. Mirabe’s words hung suspended in mid–air as she caught sight <b>of </b>the unveiled form before her–a perfect blend of strength and form, tinged <b>with </b><b>a </b>rosy hue of vitality.
And the only shred of modesty was… Suddenly, Mirabe could feel her cheeks heating up and instinctively averted her gaze.
James noted her reaction with a smirk, stepping forward as his voice took on a teasing note, “Oh? Not as if what? Cat got your tongue?”
Mirabe’s fingers twitched, but she quickly faced him once more, her gaze boldly returning to James.
Why the devil should she feel awkward? She was a doctor, and doctors did not y <b>favorites </b>with gender!
“What should I say? That you’re not well–built?” Her voice carried a proud edge.
<b>The </b><b>corner of </b>James‘ mouth twitched. Mirabe was certainly not your average <b>girl</b><b>–</b>next–door. He stepped into the bath, muscles rxing beneath the warm embrace of <b>the </b><b>water</b><b>. </b>
<b>As </b>Mirabe prepared <b>the </b>silver needles, James‘ hands rested on the edge of the tub, his eyes <bzily </b>fixed <b>on her</b>. “How long is this soak supposed tost<b>?</b><b>” </b>
“<b>Half </b>an hour<b>,</b><b>” </b><b>Mirabe </b>responded, her lips pursed in focus as she <b>skillfully </b><b>inserted </b><b>a </b><b>needle </b>into a major shoulder point.
<b>James </b><b>tapped </b>his fingers idly against the wood<b>. </b><b>His </b>handsome <b>face </b>was flushed <b>from </b><b>the </b><b>steam</b><b>, </b><b>and he </b>casually <b>added</b><b>, </b>“Your <b>medical </b>skills… surely pique one’s curiosity.”
<b>10:28 </b>
<b>Mirabe </b>paused<b>, </b>then <b>nced </b><b>sideways </b>at James, enunciating clearly, “No <b>curiosity </b>allowed<b>.</b><b>” </b>
<b>A </b><b>gentle </b>smile graced his lips as he met her guarded gaze, his voice warm, “I shall not <b>pry</b><b>.</b><b>” </b>
With that, Mirabe shifted her attention back to her work, leaning in as her fingertips <b>pressed </b>against his chest, and ced another needle into a vital meridian.
Her hair, loosely tied in a low ponytail, slipped into the medicinal water without her noticing. James raised an eyebrow and, with a featherlight touch, gathered her stray locks and ced them behind her shoulder. Mirabe was so engrossed in her task that James‘ gesture went entirely unnoticed.
After half an hour, Mirabe finished and let out a long breath. “Done.”
James‘ eyes
slid over her paleplexion, his own voice softening, “Thank you.”
She waved her hand dismissively, not one for pleasantries, and said, “Don’t forget to transfer the payment.”
James sighes. And just like that, the mood was lost by her mundane reminder of financial obligations.
Gender, <b>to </b>her, was as inconsequential as the choice between patients—both simply required her care. Thus, when she found James swaddled in nkets like a newborn babe, <b>with </b>only his head peeking out, a wry smile tugged mercilessly at the corner of her mouth. “James, what’s this? A healing session of a peep show prevention strategy?” James raised a quizzical brow, wrapping the nkets even tighter around himself as his lips parted just enough to utter, “Decorum, deardy, decorum.”
Mirabe rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Honestly, you’re as undistinguishable as a boiled chicken to me right now<i>” </i>
Pausing momentarily, she rolled up her sleeves and continued, “Man up, will you? It’s not as if=”
The intensity in James‘ gaze sharpened. He was clearly amused, seeing this as a challenge to his manhood.
His grip loosened on the nket. Mirabe’s words hung suspended in mid–air as she caught sight of the unveiled form before her–a perfect blend of strength and form, tinged with a rosy hue of vitality.
And the only shred of modesty was… Suddenly, Mirabe could feel her cheeks heating up and instinctively averted her gaze.
James noted her reaction with a smirk, stepping forward as his voice took on a teasing note, “Oh? Not as if what? Cat got your tongue?”
Mirabe’s fingers twitched, but she quickly faced him once more, her gaze boldly returning to James.
Why the devil should she feel awkward? She was a doctor, and doctors did not y favorites with gender!
“What should I say? That you’re not well–built?” Her voice carried a proud edge.
The corner of James‘ mouth twitched. Mirabe was certainly not your average girl–next–door. He stepped into the bath, muscles rxing beneath the warm embrace of the water.
<b>As </b>Mirabe prepared the silver needles, James‘ hands rested on the edge of the tub, his eyeszily fixed on her. “How long is this soak supposed tost?”
“Half an hour,” Mirabe responded, her lips pursed in focus as she skillfully inserted a needle into a major shoulder point.
James tapped his fingers idly against the wood. His handsome face was flushed from the steam, and he casually added<b>, </b>“Your medical skills… surely pique one’s curiosity.”
10:29
FIN
<b>Mirabe </b><b>paused</b><b>, </b><b>then nced </b><b>sideways </b>at James, enunciating clearly<b>, </b>“No curiosity
allowed.
<b>A </b><b>gentle </b>smile graced <b>his </b><b>lips </b><b>as </b>he met her guarded gaze, his voice warm, “I shall not
<b>pry </b>
<b>With </b><b>that</b><b>, </b>Mirabe <b>shifted </b>her <b>attention </b><b>back </b>to her work, leaning in as her fingertips <b>pressed </b><b>against </b>his chest<b>, and </b><b>ced </b>another needle into a vital meridian.
Her hair, loosely tied in <b>a </b>low <b>ponytail</b><b>, </b>slipped into the medicinal water without her <b>noticing</b>. James raised an eyebrow and, with a featherlight touch, gathered her stray locks and ced them behind her shoulder. Mirabe was so engrossed in her task that <b>James</b>‘ gesture went entirely unnoticed.
After half an hour, Mirabe finished and let out a long breath. “Done.”
James‘ eyes slid over her paleplexion, his own voice softening, “Thank you.”
She waved her hand dismissively, not one for pleasantries, and said, “Don’t forget to transfer the payment.”
James sighes. And just like that, the mood was lost by her mundane reminder of financial obligations..