Strange goes exaggeratedly still and motionless, scarred hands splayed on the tabletop and pressing down that stack of papers. That abstracted neutrality sharpens, giving the girl a second, more probing look.
“Er, more the latter these days,” he says, temporarily thrown off-guard. He can count on one hand the number of people who even know to apply the word neurosurgeon to what he does (did, once did). Gwenaëlle, Cosima, Julius, Abby. Presumably someone beat him to the punch in terms of introduction.
“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I’m assuming the Provost told you my specialties?”
no subject
Strange goes exaggeratedly still and motionless, scarred hands splayed on the tabletop and pressing down that stack of papers. That abstracted neutrality sharpens, giving the girl a second, more probing look.
“Er, more the latter these days,” he says, temporarily thrown off-guard. He can count on one hand the number of people who even know to apply the word neurosurgeon to what he does (did, once did). Gwenaëlle, Cosima, Julius, Abby. Presumably someone beat him to the punch in terms of introduction.
“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I’m assuming the Provost told you my specialties?”