health care

[Locksmith]

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If only Thallia knew where and under what conditions Roland had slept a few years ago. Sometimes the best bed he and his sister could hope for was simply the floor of some abandoned building with a half-collapsed roof. Most days, of course, weren't that bad, but the sight of her bedroom-kitchen didn't bother him at all in light of his own misadventures.

"Don't care about the mess. I came for a medical check-up and... To spend some time with you, Doctor. The rest is not so important."

If anything, it made him feel bolder. Having covered the distance to his interlocutor, Freud stops right behind her, watching the movements of her hand from over her shoulder. He lets out a small laugh at her assurances that adding something to the tea won't affect the taste.

"I guess I'll just have to trust you on this one. I wouldn't know better, anyway."

So when she turns around, the young man is standing... Well, close enough that he doesn't have to reach for the cup. Taking it from Thallia, Roland carefully tastes the drink. Then he pauses for a few seconds, lost in thought. The mixture of sweetness and tartness was quite unusually pleasant for him.

"... I like it. A bit like one of the drinks I had at the bar on Arranmore. But... Without the heaviness of alcohol. Better."

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