Picture a man.

No, not beautiful enough. We’ll take another crack at it.

Picture a man. He is somewhere in his thirties. He has wavy, dark hair and soft brown eyes. Everyone’s eyes are soft, of course, this is part of why you aren’t supposed to touch them. But here, we mean soft as in “a gentle and loving gaze,” not the texture of the eyes, which would also be wet and squishy. He is wearing a labcoat, buttoned up carefully. This is a matter of functionality - if the labcoat isn’t buttoned, then chemicals might get on skin or the underlayers of clothing, and that would be poor lab safety. Lab safety is very important to this man.

Perhaps that doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

In any case, he’s standing at the counter in a laboratory. His gaze travels quickly from a bubbling beaker to a notebook, as he makes notes with remarkable speed and accuracy about the shape and size of the bubbles.

The sign on the door says, “We are open!” He is currently the only one inside, however. It might be late, and they might be open mostly because this particular man values science so much that, when he’s available, he keeps the lab open for any late-night science questions that might need to be answered. Or, it might be early, and all the other scientists have gone out to lunch while he wanted to squeeze in just one more experiment.