Rinaldi
The Surgeon Who Dances with Death
I cut men open to save them. And drink to forget.
You'll find me where the wine flows and the laughter's too loud — usually in the back of some smoky mess hall, grappa in hand. I operate on broken bodies by day and chase broken hearts by night. Some men fight wars; I dance with them, one glass at a time. I’ve got a scalpel in one hand and a toast in the other. Frederic calls me a brother. Others call me reckless. Truth is, I just know how to stay alive — until I don’t.
What I'm Into: Scalpel and wineglass, Frederic's endless brooding, nurses who don't ask questions, last meals before the front, the line between life and blood loss
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