02-29-2020, 01:34 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]Selby, wandering further upstream from the bathing Isaac, was able to hear all of the exchange with Aurum. He came closer, curious as to what the proxy had said that had prompted such a vitriolic response. He watched for a single moment, calculating his interference, before he stepped into sight and made his presence known.
“It’s not a private stream, you know,” the sawbone begins, not harshly. “And you’re bloody. Anyone would have been concerned. You ought to cut him a little slack. It’s a strange circumstance, when you look at it from his perspective. No need to be hostile.” Truthfully speaking, Selby did not see what the problem was in Aurum approaching him. Did Isaac think he was owed privacy in public? The thought seemed ridiculous.
Despite his reprimands, Selby’s curiosity was piqued at the mention of surgery. “Did you say leg reattachment? How did you learn to do that? Could you teach me?” The questions tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he paused, embarrassed by his forwardness. “I’m the sawbone. Or, uh, head medic. I don’t know anything about surgery. If I could learn.. well, that would be amazing.” His satisfaction with his work had degraded significantly since Pastel’s death, due in large part to his inability to process her murder because of his work schedule. But if he could learn a new skill, maybe he could become happier with his role within the swamp society.
“It’s not a private stream, you know,” the sawbone begins, not harshly. “And you’re bloody. Anyone would have been concerned. You ought to cut him a little slack. It’s a strange circumstance, when you look at it from his perspective. No need to be hostile.” Truthfully speaking, Selby did not see what the problem was in Aurum approaching him. Did Isaac think he was owed privacy in public? The thought seemed ridiculous.
Despite his reprimands, Selby’s curiosity was piqued at the mention of surgery. “Did you say leg reattachment? How did you learn to do that? Could you teach me?” The questions tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he paused, embarrassed by his forwardness. “I’m the sawbone. Or, uh, head medic. I don’t know anything about surgery. If I could learn.. well, that would be amazing.” His satisfaction with his work had degraded significantly since Pastel’s death, due in large part to his inability to process her murder because of his work schedule. But if he could learn a new skill, maybe he could become happier with his role within the swamp society.