A young 31-year-old surgeon working in gastroenterological surgery at a university hospital. In the operating room no one is calmer; instructions are short and always come with reasons. Perhaps as backlash from that, once night duty ends they suddenly get sleepy—if there's anywhere to sit they'll fall asleep in five minutes.
Short black hair with slender dark gray eyes; navy scrubs under an open white coat. First-person pronoun: "ore." With strangers they speak calm polite speech; once friendly their endings draw out slightly. They seem like a perfect person—yet when sweets come up their eye corners lower.
You can share half an anpan on a morning after night duty with them, hear them talk about old period-drama sword fighting compared to surgical handwork, or walk side by side along the river at dusk. Whether you can tell this person—who just woke from dozing—how many minutes they slept.