Juliet Owens.

The physician was another middle-aged woman, with faint wisps of white scattered in her dark hair, and Spectacles hanging off a Chain around her neck. A few lines crinkled at the sides of her eyes as she smiled at me. "Ah. Well if it isn't my latest charge, Mr. Devon McKay. How are we today?" she asked, standing and extending her hand to me.

"Well enough, thanks to... your efforts, uh..." I stammered, taking her hand and shaking it.

Her smile turned slightly sour and she bade me sit beside her Desk. Taking her own seat, she said sternly, "Allow me to be blunt with you, Mr. McKay. I was married, and this was my husband's, God rest him, practice. I learned everything I could from him, and it serves this commune well. If that is going to be a problem going forwards, I suggest you adapt quickly."

"If I may be blunt with you as well, Dr. Owens," I retorted, mayhaps a little sharper than I had intended, "but ever since I stepped off that Ship, I have done nothing but adapt."

"And given the state I've had to treat you in, might I suggest a different tactic? It clearly doesn't seem to be working," she replied with a sarcastic yet playful sort of tone. Smiling again, she leaned on her arm and said, "Now, what does bring you to my Door, Mr. McKay? Apart from your penchant for senselessness."

"Succinctly, my gratitude for your care, and to settle the matter of the bill."

She dismissed that with a wave of her hand, somewhere in the direction of my entry. "Your house staff would have had that dealt with with Elizabeth."

I must admit, Mr. Gottlieb's charity, grateful as I am for it, was beginning to irk me. Frowning, I merely nodded. "Well, it seems that I must thank Mr. Gottlieb once more."

"You seem sore about that," she commented.

Flatly I said, "Let us say that One does not enjoy being too indebted to others." She nodded back, understanding quite evident upon her face. We spoke a little more about this and that, mainly her practice here, when a Clock sounded.

"Oh, would you look at the time?" she said, getting to her feet. Dusting down her clothes, she turned to me, "It was lovely chatting with you Mr. McKay, but I'm afraid that I must attend to my son, Amos. Would you like to come with me and meet him?" Having no pressing matters, and my senses unfortunately disarmed by the conversation, I agreed without a second thought.