"Och aye.  Da woold nae let me get afraid of 'unting.  Be respectful of it and of the animals, but knowing that they give us our food and how tae get it when I was oot on the land."

"We hunted our own game for meals back 'ome, still dae on special occasions.  I am always gaeing 'unting with someone or another when I am back there.  Especially, in the holidays.  Better food than tame meat.  Tae my opinion.  Though we have the local farms tae get the regular meat tae.   But for the special events, nothing like a roasted boar or stag."  He shrugged taking another bite of the salmon.

"I actually missed it when I was traveling once I started my apprenticing.  Though then I was too busy learning more techniques and styles of painting and sculpting.  Well, there were more things to learn when I did have free time of my own."  He chuckled.

Tristan finished the last of his toast. "I've never hunted before," he admitted. "Would probably be terrible at it too, given how bad I was at sports in school." He looked to see whether the artist had finished his starter. "Shall we begin the main course?"

Douglas shrugged.  "Nae everyone enjoys it.  I enjoyed being oot with my da and oot in the natural world.   'unting is part of that world."  He had sketched many scenes after sitting in a tree or out somewhere secure planning to hunt but ending up just watching and memorizing the scene to draw it later.  Hunting for food and the fur for warmth was part of human life too if done respectfully.

He had finished the salmon and had earlier taken a bite of the roast beef, not being one to worry about the order of things.  Now though, he set aside the empty plate and brought out the roast beef to give it his full focus.  It had been quite good.

After eating a bit, he looked over to the doctor.  "Yu spoke of dangerous things, did yu ever get yurself intae trouble as a lad?  or younger man?"  He asked with a kind of conspiracy wink, "most of us dae some nae sae smart things at that age.  I know I did."  He took another deep drink of the wine.

[Reference to racism and bullying]

Tristan helped himself to some of the roast beef, potatoes and vegetables. He chuckled. "Oh, I got into trouble alright, though I'd like to think I haven't risked my life that often. When I was at boarding school, a friend and I snuck out of the school grounds one night and swam across a river to explore the woods across from it. The current was a great deal stronger than we had thought, so that was dangerous. For most of my school time I was the only black kid there, so I stood out. Got into fights and got into trouble for that. Though in my defense, I didn't start them." He shrugged. "Still got trashed for them. Well, and then I've done prison duty, which gave me this..." He took off his jacket and rolled up his right sleeve, to expose a healed but still visible human bitemark high on his forearm. "People often don't realize how dangerous these are... Could have killed me..."

Douglas ate more of the food on the plate with the roast beef as he listened with interest to the story about the river current.  Then pausing he nodded understanding that it must have been difficult being so visibly different from the other students, especially when still a kid.  He had been around most like himself until he went to board school and then to study with the masters he had worked with.  For him, it had been his accent, but that could be hidden if you were quiet.  Which stayed until he got stronger than some of the bullies.  Still, it would have been much easier for him than it would be for Tristan.

When the doctor spoke about the prison and showed the bite, Douglas winced in empathy.  "Och, that must 'ave 'urt.  I cannae say I 'aven't been on the other side of the jaol, but I never saw the need tae bite the officers.  Of course, I was usually getting o'er a drunk and/or a fight like a numpty."  He chuckled.  "I cannae even say I 'ave grown oot of that kind of thing, but I dinna dae it as near often as I did back then.  And pick better quality places tae drink now tae."  He raised his glass indicating the current location and great quality.

He took another drink.  "Dae yu still 'ave tae do the jaol duty?"  He asked curiously.

Tristan ate some and looked at the artist with surprise when he said he had seen the inside of a goal from the other perspective. He really seemed to have had a rather wild youth. But Tristan supposed if you were an Earl, you'd get away with things he himself would never have gotten away with. His parents had held a tight reign, and it was probably a good thing, for one misstep could seriously endanger his career.

Speaking of endangering his career, Tristan opened the other bottle. "If you think you will be able to stay out of gaol tonight," he teased, "I'd say we try this one with the beef." He held out the bottle to fill the painter's glass if he let him. Then he filled his own.

"As for prison duty..." his face turned a little grim. "Not anymore, luckily. I did it because the asylum wasn't paying well, but I despised it. They didn't give me enough time to properly inspect or treat any inmate. The conditions the men were in was appalling. I didn't like contributing to such a system. Stopped when they roped me into supervising a flogging." He grimaced. "I'm a doctor. I'm supposed to heal, not contribute to injury." The turmoil it had caused in him, had kept him awake for a week and it could still make him shudder.

Douglas nodded in agreement with the other type of wine.  Once he had made sure his drink was empty, he held out his glass allowing the doctor to pour as much as he wished into the bowl.  As Tristan spoke more about the duty, Douglas gave the wine a proper examination as he had been taught years ago to respect and appreciate the wine.  This was as good as the other had been, and he gave it a good sip.

"I cannae imagine either of the two being vera pleasant for anyone to work there.  Nor tae be required to live there as 'customers'/patients.  Though at least with the prison, it is due tae an action that deserved it."  He shrugged.  He had deserved his times of staying in the cells of a jail.  He saw it might be hard for a healer to deal with the punishments.  Though having a doctor there at hand was a good thing as well.

"Sae yu 'ave yur own practice, so that must be better for you on the way of income."  He gave him a look as he took some more beef.  "'ow long 'ave yu 'ave the private practice?"

"Oh not for long..." Tristan admitted. He let the wine spin in his glass, but then set it down again without drinking. He would need to eat a little more. Tristan was not a heavy drinker. He was careful not to drink too often on his own, especially during times he felt particularly lonely and miserable. So he would need to drink slowly now, if he did not want to get drunk. "A few weeks, so business isn't great yet. It's not easy to establish a name. But I hope that in time it will earn better than the asylum and provide a more stable life."

He continued: "Although I have to say working in the asylum was by choice, much against my father's advice even. I've always been fascinated by the human mind. And I believed I could make a difference, improve things, maybe even do groundbreaking research... I did care about the work and my patients." He looked at Douglas with a wry smile. "But I guess I have reached that age where I have to admit my youthful ambitions were naïve and my father's advice to set up a practice and settle down sounds more sensible."

And yet he was unhappy.

Douglas listened intently, as he was honestly curious about the doctor's practice.  "Per'aps this project we are working on will 'elp you with establishing yur name.  Though with the poorer areas might not help you with the 'obnobs."  He admitted with a wince.  "I 'ave asked yu something that might nae 'elp yu in the long way."

Thinking further, he thought of what the doctor said about his father's wishes.  "I was lucky that my father wanted me to follow my dreams once it was discovered that I enjoyed drawing.  He encouraged me and 'elped me dae sae.  Nae all 'ave that kind of support.  Some of the artists that were apprenticing at the same as I was were low on funds and had to work more for a wage while working with the Masters."  He frowned.  "One of the reasons I dae as much as I can for the schools and arts and families that dinna 'ave the means."  He admitted.  He kept his efforts very quiet but often sponsored poor artists that he had seen had talent and an interest in the arts.

He might come across as a lazy careless course kind of man, but he actually was very sentimental and sensitive.  He hid it, and stayed aloof, as he had been hurt emotionally and after his work with the military and didn't want to have it happen again.  Well, that and not wanting people to see that darkness that takes hold within him every so often.

"That is good of you," said Tristan, lifting his glass again now that he had had the chance to eat a little. "I suppose dreams are all wonderful as long as one can afford to pursue them. But do not worry about your proposal. You are paying me after all, so there's some income, and I am glad the poor get the help they need." They could go to the workhouse of course, but he hadn't heard great things about that place. "How's the wine?" He tried it himself.