The Eye of the Beholder

[Sören]

Sören waited patiently to discern whether there was any serendipity to be found in this annoyance, until apparently some familiarity was discovered in the name or description. By the awe in Nina’s expression, he doubted the stupid woman had been circumspect with her gift, despite the numerous conversations they had had about the necessity for a little discretion. His mouth pursed a frown, a rather dismal suspicion beginning to unfurl in his chest. He wondered what strings he might have to pull to gain a glimpse of the Custody’s registration records.

“I imagine her temper caught up with her.” He shrugged in answer to the question, since he only had the barest understanding of the exact circumstance that had led to Morven’s suspension, beyond that it had meant the necessity to offer her lodging. She was too useful to see destitute. He pushed himself up from leaning against the wall. A little dizziness persisted, but he was sure he could walk well enough now the pain eased.

“Wonderful advice, doctor,” he said drily. Clearly she did not appreciate that it was the sole reason he sought the woman out. Still, help was help. In this pursuit, Sören was willing to accept. “Do you have access to hospital records? Can you discover her last patient?” He stared down at her offered hand, not particularly enamoured of the enthusiasm. After a moment of apparent indecision, he took her it, grip firm, but only to twist it round to inspect her forearm. He did not yank to hurt; there was no cruelty to the movement, only efficiency. Her other arm received a similar, brisk inspection before he let her go. Satisfied, at least for now, he dropped her grip. “I suppose you can call me Sören.”