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.”