[Content warning: reference to racism]

Tristan was in the waiting room of his office. It was not time for consultation and there were no patients - not that he had seen many so far anyway - but he was waiting for a potential maid. He paced the floor to get rid of some of the stress of it, for though he didn't like to admit it, he was pretty nervous. So far, he had lived in institutions ever since leaving the home of his parents and this was the first time he was troubled with having to hire staff - a delicate issue anyway, he remembered from home. Once his family had grown wealthy enough to hire servants, they had been confronted with the fact that for them, wealth wasn't everything. Poor white people were willing to swallow their pride and serve other white people, but his family had found few willing to wait on them.

When the knock at the door came, Tristan took a deep breath and reminded himself that he was the employer here, and if he did not like the interaction, he could keep looking. He looked more confident when he opened the door. "Miss Danes? I'm Dr. Wells. Do come in." He stepped out of the way. Young, average size, pretty, healthy face, no signs of heavy drinking, clean, old faded clothes, that had to be second hand, and yet fitted her well. She seemed sensible and prudent at a first glance.

The white-washed waiting room was small and bare safe for a few chairs and a large plant that looked like it was dying for the bleakness of it. The door to the examination room and office was open. The door next to it was closed.