The Eye of the Beholder

[Sören]

Sören sat when bid, presuming compliance would assure business to be concluded swiftly, but Nina seemed remiss of the urgency. He gave no consideration to the dripping mess he made of her office, but accepted the towel with a short sigh of impatience, dragging it over his head and mopping the worst of the droplets slick along the planes of his face. He watched her in kind as he did so, faintly irritated by the undue concern she showered upon a stranger. At least insofar as it obstructed his access to answers.

For a while he listened to the industrious noises beyond the office walls, and the faint rumblings from the storm beyond that. The question he ignored as irrelevant.

“A doctor who can’t afford new socks.” he said blandly. The words weren’t unkind, but they weren’t friendly either. His mild gaze travelled from her toes to her eyes, seeking a needle of embarrassment for her kindness. He didn’t lift his glass, but did take a sip. Then he tipped his head back against the headrest. The numbers on his arm blurred from the rain, but they were emblazoned in his mind anyway. Little remained of the pain now; so it had been before, and so it would be again, he’d wager. Distaste twisted his lips.

This would be easier if he did not need to rely on another. But even in the safety of Nina’s office, he was loathe to test the eye’s abilities. Thrown upon the mercy of another was not where he preferred to be.

“You said you would discover her last patient for me,” he reminded.