Tristan stood up. "You must be Mr. Rowe," he said, observing the delinquent. He was short, Tristan noted, but it was not unusual in his patients. Many had grown up in extreme poverty or had been neglected as children because of their condition. Stunted growth was often the result, although Tristan could spot no immediate deformities. The man certainly had an absent look, an indication that something might indeed be the matter.

"Have a seat," he said, gesturing at the chair across the table, and he sat back down. "I'm doctor Wells. I'll be examining you today. I'm not a policeman, I'm a doctor, so I'm not here to get you in trouble, but to make sure you're alright, okay?"