[[CW: mention of substance abuse]]

It was evening and Tristan sat in the drawing room, reading a book he wasn't very interested in. This morning he had held office hour and then in the afternoon he had paid a house visit. Slowly he was getting more patients, but the life in Whitby was still harder than he had imagined. When he did have patients, he felt alright, though the work was hardly as engaging as his work in the asylum had been. But it was the moments of leisure that he dreaded. Apart from Tobias, he still had no friends in town, and he found that outside the context of university or work, it was a lot harder to meet people. 

He had asked Pippa to bring up a bottle of wine, deciding to make the long evening more bearable. He couldn't find as much pleasure in his studies as before, and so he had decided to opt for another way to lift his spirits. Surely he could be excused if it was just one evening of drinking? He knew all to well that some of his colleagues turned to their supply of opium. So a few glasses of wine were really quite innocent.

Pippa was doing better than she had been in the beginning. She happened to be rather OCD, so the whole place gleamed from top to bottom. Her work in the kitchen was improving slower than the housework, but she was getting better with that too. She'd just finished cleaning up the dishes after serving a too-salty dinner and was ready to get off of her feet for a time. She was pulling at the strings of her apron, newly calloused fingers pinching the cloth and then she pulled the whole thing off to be laundered.

She had forgotten the bottle of wine.

She turned back to get it, and then headed for the drawing-room to give the bottle over to Tristan.

By this time, Tristan was beginning to wonder whether Pippa was still going to bring up that bottle. He was about to ring for her when she entered. "Ah, Pippa." he said, pulling his feet off the saloon table where he had lazily placed them while nobody watched. "Kindly bring it up a little faster next time, would you?" he scolded gently.

"Sorry, sir," she said, letting him have the bottle, "I was just finishing the dishes." She looked worn out, but she also looked a lot healthier since she began working there, her cheeks had some color to them and she looked brighter... dare I write, happier? She started to back out of the room, but stopped herself, remembering something. She turned to him, asking, "Is there anything else you need, Doctor Wells?"

Tristan had noticed the change and he was happy for it. He knew she was probably exhausted, for the life of a servant was a hard one, probably harder than he could imagine, and especially for a girl not used to work, but he could see that she was getting stronger and he made sure she ate properly - well... neither of them weren't eating great food at the moment, but at least she ate enough.

He sat up. "No that will be -,"

He changed his mind.

"Actually. Join me, if you wouldn't mind," he put the book away, leaving it open upside down. It was something on psychology and genetics in German. Tristan gestured at the chair across from him.

She nodded and moved toward the chair in question, sitting down. Pippa had grown more comfortable around him over time, so she was no longer fidgety when it came to interacting with him. Not that she had done much of it at all, seeing as she had gone to finishing school and learned about poise and grace. She sat up straight, hands folded neatly into her lap. As usual, when she peered at him it wasn't in awkward silence, but it was in silence nevertheless. She was gazing at him with her quiet curiosity, her dark eyes fixed upon his face and a slight, Mona Lisa kind of smile appeared on her lips.

Tristan didn't look at Pippa but focused on the bottle. He unscrewed the cork, and filled the glass she had brought up. He handed it to her and then filled a glass he had used for water earlier, because he couldn't be bothered to go down for another glass or send Pippa. Then he sat back, twirled the wine gently in the glass and looked over at the young woman. "The house is spotless. You were right. You are a fast learner," he complimented.

She took the wine, "Thank you..." And then when he complimented her, her eyes lit up and her smile grew a fraction. She wasn't the type to get overly excited about things like compliments. She did, however, nod graciously in acknowledgement and repeated, "Thank you." She swirled the wine around in her glass and then inhaled the smell of it. It smelled like a good vintage, she thought before tasting it. "I figure the cleaner it is, the better. I never did like chaos and disorder."

Sometimes he forgot that she was brought up a lady, and then he saw the grace with which she carried herself or received compliments, and he remembered that she was well-bred indeed. But she did not seem to possess any of the ill traits that came with 'good breeding'. Truth be told, he was surprised at how hard and diligently she worked, and how she never complained about any of the more uncomfortable tasks. She did not possess the idleness nor the arrogance and entitlement of some of the well-to-do young ladies he had met. There was a lot to learn of course, but that was not her fault. She had thrown herself into the work and study with great determination and she was clearly intelligent. She'd get far in life, despite her bad fortunes. "Well, I'm glad," he said. "And I think it's time I start paying you wages beside your board. You've worked hard."

Again, a gracious nod. "I appreciate that, Doctor," she murmured. She sipped of the wine again, but not fast... slowly, savoring the brew. She hardly ever imbibed, choosing to drink water most of the time. It was heaven and it was probably going to go to her head. She soon cradled the drink, her pinky out without her so much as noticing. "I've enjoyed the work, it's been a good distraction." Though there were some nights that Tristan might hear her grief, they were growing further apart and she seemed happy where she was at.