Eugene screwed his face up slightly "with all due respect doctor. I just wanna finish my time and start from scratch once more. And yeah even if that does mean going back to whitby" he looked at Tristan "I've spent a quarter of my life behind these walls. I've been beaten, I've been stabbed and I've broken bones. I want to put this all behind me and move on. My family won't welcome me back as a returning emperor to Rome. They've probably forgotten about me. I want to see some of the world so think a career in the merchant navy will be the best choice when I get out."

He looked once again at Tristan "you from whitby yourself doctor?"

"I understand," Tristan answered when the young man said he just wanted to move on. He supposed that with all he had been through, his family neglectful, prison life so harsh, Mr. Longbottom did not expect enough of the world to try. "A new career can offer new opportunities. There are many who have worked their way up to a better life at sea. And no, I live in Whitby now, but I'm from Newcastle. Well, London, long ago. My father was a dockworker who managed to work his way up through good fortune and wise decisions. You never know what lies ahead for you." He finished the bandaging.

He nodded "hopefully everyone has forgotten about me like my family have and I can return to whitby and make a fresh start." He thought for a moment "I did think I recognised your face when I first saw you and thought it was from whitby. Everyone gives Whitby stick and it's not as bad as people make out. Sure it has its rough areas but there's alot of good. It's full of proud folk. Especially the fishing communities. Would I join the fishing.....nah too much uncertainty with regards to wages. Id rather travel some of the world and see what I've missed with my time in here"

It was hardly the first time someone claimed to recognize his face… He worked on quietly as Eugene talked. That talking, eager yet repetitive, seemed to him a testimony of the inhumane loneliness these inmates suffered. Tristan was convinced that this was in fact the worst part of the punishment; not the absence of freedom, but the isolation. As an alienist he was all too aware of what that could do to the human mind. In the past, a large number of prisoners had been driven mad by that isolation. But even with reforms, the prison system was still designed to keep prisoners from associating with one another. And clearly this poor kid had been abandoned by everyone outside the prison walls. He was utterly alone.

God, he hated working in prisons. It would disturb him for days.

“Every town has good and bad, I suppose,” Tristan answered. Really, he thought Whitby was quite bad, but he was also happy to hear a surprisingly positive statement from young Mr. Longbottom and so he kept his opinion to himself.

He stepped back. “That’s done. Leave that on there for as long as possible. If you wash, a doctor or nurse will have to put it back on for you. It’s important it supports you in the right areas. As for your nose, if you’re not scared of the pain I can try to set it straight for you, so it won’t heal crooked.”

Eugene nodded "do what you gotta do doc. It's not the first time it's even straightened. I can handle the pain & discomfort. It might be a sleepless night as the bruising and healing start but it's nothing. Most nights here you don't sleep well anyways with the howls and screams from the others across the yard in the isolation wing"

He nodded about the other dressing "ill do my best to keep clean and not disturb it. Theres not much access to water here, especially in the summer when it's warmer and the springs dry up and water is rationed per inmate" he smiled "thanks for taking the time to talk with me and treat my wounds. Its nice to know there's still some humanity left in this god forsaken world"

Tristan really should bring up his concerns with the governor. It was his duty to report it if he believed any inmate to be in danger and if the conditions in the prison were anything like the young man had described, many inmates were in danger. He just needed to make sure that he confined himself to his own observations so that he didn't put young Mr. Longbottom at risk of further abuse for talking.

"I'll speak with the governor and make sure you get all you need to keep clean," he promised.

Then he washed his hands again and straightened the young man's nose as quickly and precisely as he could, after which he dressed it. "There is lots of good in humanity," he encouraged. "Perhaps you were just unfortunate enough to grow up in a place where you saw little of it. But once your out, you can find better company."

He nodded "perhaps there is, but I've seen very little of it in this place or the back streets of whitby. The vermin have a higher quality of life than some of my siblings" he sighed and let the doctor dress his healing nose. Atleast it didn't need to be broken again to straighten it.

He nodded once more "thanks we will see what comes of it but I'm not holding my breath doctor. I'm just counting the days till I'm walking free again"

He tilted his head "you do much work in the prisons doctor? We very rarely see a nurse let alone a doctor, it's unusual to see people like yourself here"

If his siblings were what Tristan had in mind under the name 'Longbottom, well... there were two sides to that coin...

"Not much. I'm replacing another doctor. But you should have been inspected by a doctor upon arrival, and then when you are unwell, you should be allowed to see a doctor. And if they meant to beat you as a disciplinary measure, well, there should have been a doctor present too." Not that the carefully registered and regulated prison beatings were any less cruel and inhumane in Tristan's eyes. It was the very reason he had stopped working in prisons. "It's the law," he added with some suppressed anger in his tone, as if saying that with force would change anything about the conditions in this prison.

Eugene laughed "there has hardly been a doctor here for the last 5 years that I'm aware of. We are prisoners, we are cattle......well cattle have more rights than us. We are chucked in our cells for 23 hours a day and one hour of exercise in a yard that takes 60 paces to do a full circuit of. We have nothing here doctor"

He wiped his chin and started talking "and the food is worse than what they fed sailors in the battle of trafalgar" he sighed "quite frankly doctor. All I've done the last 5 years is wish I was dead rather than being on this place"

He shrugged his shoulders "no matter what you say or do. This place won't change. We are prisoners, we've broken the law. We have no rights in the eyes of the system. We are merely a drain on society"

This prison was clearly behind. Someone needed to report it. Tristan would look around if he had the chance, see if he could question some other inmate patients, to see if their account and his own observations corroborated the young man's complaints. And then he would need to pick a battle he would really rather stay out of.

He stepped back when he had finished dressing the nose. "Then keep your head down. You're almost out," he encouraged.

Just then a guard entered. "If you're done 'ere, doctor, there's a feller that knocked 'is head against the cell door too 'ard in the north wing."