Tristan needed to get out of the house. The cabinet in his study was properly sealed and he had inspected the floor and the desk to make sure he had left no incriminating literature or letters lying about this time. Still the quarrel with Pippa bothered him continuously. The whole situation was. And now there was his sister to worry about on top of everything else.

He felt bad for lying, but he had told her that he was out to see a patient. Instead he had walked around aimlessly, with his bag in hand for cover. He had finally settled for the pub. He wasn't much of a drinker, and usually preferred to drink at home anyway, but home was what he was trying to avoid right now, and he did like watching people.

The young man had caught his attention from the moment Tristan walked in. Now, as he stood waiting at the bar and listened to the kid trying to inquire after jobs in French and broken English, he felt pity, and no small amount of concern. "Can I help you?" he asked the young man in French. His words came out rather slow. He read French frequently, but it was long since he had last spoken it, and he had always struggled with the pronunciation.