Every new word out of the doctor's lips made him look more miserable. He felt like he was draining any feeling of luxury out of him. At least he hadn't said no wine, small victories, he supposed. But still, lots of his orders felt more like suffering. "I have tried to make friends once or twice. Artistic people don't stick close to Whitby... and.." it felt like a lump came to his throat and he had trouble speaking on the thought that came to him.

He cleared his throat and moved on from the topic. "I've traveled before." The last time he did, he got horribly ill. Perhaps he should try someplace less likely to poison him. "I've not traveled in a while." He didn't want to admit if he did it, he'd like company. He hated being sick alone in a room with no one to care for him. Perhaps he could get some of the help to come. "Do people without money have people serve them?" He had seen the dirtiest of the poor but not the more middle ground. The ones who could afford to travel but not much more. "I hate the idea. But I will try it if you promise to give me something. "