A whiteboard hung on the opposite wall, and beside it stood a tall, muscular man dressed in green scrubs and a white lab coat. He had perfectly combed black hair and the worst moustache Minho had ever seen. “Welcome,” the man said. “My name is Lincoln. Please have a seat, facing me.” Curiosity took over. Minho sat in the chair, wondering what to do with his hands, until he finally folded them in his lap.
