Tristan listened to the story, wondering about the same thing: why it had such meaning for the man. But this was not his business of course, except that as an alienist, he sometimes couldn't help himself. They remained silent reflections, however, rudely interrupted by the man yelling at the woman in the kitchen. He couldn't help a light cringe. So the poor manners were mutual?

He held up his hand and quickly said: "It's alright. I'm in no rush!" It wasn't like he had a social life or anything to do in the evenings. "I'm a slow drinker, anyway."