He began to eat his own food and nodded in agreement, pausing to look down into his half empty mug and setting it back down. "I would be glad to come take a look at your clinic," he said after chewing and swallowing.

"Great," said Tristan, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. He was so eager to make the man feel better that now he wondered if he seemed fake.

"The food here is really good," he quickly changed the subject.

"That it is," he said as he finished off what he was eating. "I like the gravy in this, it's quite savory. The ale isn't too bad either," he said with a nod toward his drink. He had one of those chuckles that sounded like coughing but one could tell it was a laugh.

"I'm not such an expert when it comes to ale," Tristan said, "but the tea's good." He hoped this man didn't drink frequently to hide his sorrows. He knew that that was how some dealt with grief.

"I am more of a wine man, myself, but every once and a while I can appreciate a good pale ale." He actually nursed the drink instead of downing it like others might, a sign that he was only going to enjoy the one pint. He stared off at one point, however, and gave a weary sigh. Eventually he said, "I suppose I should be getting back home soon." Not that he had anything to go back to, he thought bitterly.

"Oh, of course," said Tristan, who cut up his pie to let it cool, so he could eat it faster. "Well, you're welcome to visit anytime."