"Good to meet you too, though if you aren't in a hurry, we could make our way to the nearest inn and compare notes over lunch," he offered, not wanting to go home to the gloom that was his house without his wife. He sighed and looked away then, "I'll freely admit I am not quite ready to go home."

That brought a smile to Tristan's face, for though it was a surprise, it was a welcome one. "Neither am I. An excellent suggestion. Please lead the way."

Donald led the way out of the library and the building proper. Once they reached the inn, he led the way to a table where they could sit and discuss things. On the menu were meat pies made by the baker, Mister Willaby, and he was partial to the pasties. He ordered a few of them for himself as well as a cheese and fruit platter.

His papers set aside, he took a long pull of ale once their drinks arrived.

"I am sorry if I was not so engaged as I should have been at the podium. My heart is honestly not into it much right now. I recently lost my wife and unborn child. Murdered." He was probably going to get shitfaced for the first time since she was killed. He was okay with that.

Tristan ordered tea and a stake and onion pasty. He was about to dig his teeth into it, when the doctor spoke up, and Tristan put the food down, shocked at what his companion revealed. "I'm... sorry," he said, not sure how to respond adequately to such terrible news. "W-was the murderer caught?" Was that an appropriate question? But then, what was an appropriate response?

"Apparently he was apprehended and killed recently," he said... "One of the Carrington fellows." He said this with a sigh and then took a drink of his drink when it arrived. He needed the fortification. "I am sorry, I don't know why I brought it up. I suppose it might be because I haven't told anyone other than my staff. Who does one talk to about such things?" He gave a humorless laugh and then looked down into his cup.

"I read about that," Tristan said, before realizing that that was not exactly a helpful. He picked up his cup and abandoned his food for now, because drinking tea seemed more reverential than getting pasty all over one's face. "Oh no, don't apologise, please," he said. "You're quite right. You shouldn't have to keep this all to yourself."

He nodded and looked down into his drink, silent for a long time before he murmured, "She was pregnant. She would have given birth in just a few months. I just had the nursery painted and a cradle made... and we were picking out names... And then one day, she told me she loved me and went to market, but never returned. When I learned what happened..." he sighed and then tossed back a chug.

Tristan looked at the man with a pitying frown. He was a bachelor and probably going to be one for a while, if not for all his life, but he had sometimes imagined what it would be like to have a family and be a father. He couldn't imagine what it had to be like to have that and then have it taken away so brutally. "I'm so sorry," he said in a hushed voice.

He cradled his mug and looked down into it. "Thank you..." he murmured, "for listening and giving an old man your time." And then he shifted topics, "I would most certainly be agreeable to joining forces with another good doctor. I have a clinic that we just finished renovations on if you would like to see it sometime."

Tristan nodded. "Thank you for your trust," he said, hoping to put his poor companion at ease. "I would love to come have a look. You must visit mine as well. I'd like a more experienced opinion." Mostly he wanted to keep a desperate man from being alone. He began to eat his pie, feeling that it was somewhat appropriate to do so now.