𝐌𝐑. 𝐋𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐖𝐘𝐋.

the press of the wine glass against lewis' lips hid the slight downward twist of them. icarus, it seemed, was something of an idle man of means; that was enough to sour the surgeon's opinion of him. he had never had much patience for the young fellows who threw money away on travel and pleasure. "indeed." the tone of his voice remained level, albeit with an added dryness to it. "it boasts no end of amusements, i am told. i cannot speak to how it compares with athens."

lewis' pale-eyed gaze flicked over to icarus for a moment, intrigued. there was something about the way icarus described himself — once greek — that rang somewhat odd. never one to pry, however, lewis kept his curiosity to himself. perhaps the young man might say more after wine had loosened his tongue, in any case. "i am a surgeon, at st. thomas' hospital." he brought his drink halfway to his lips, paused, and glanced once more at icarus. "and what of you?"

he took the other man's hand, shaking it firmly. he was often wary of others in his field. in the rural district where he practiced, far too many physicians were concerned with their profits rather than the furthering of medical understanding. he only hoped to find that this surgeon would take his approach more than theirs... " mr. hunter, " he repeated, brows rising with interest. " i've followed his work - i confess, i'm more than a little envious, sir. "

lewis couldn't deny a slight spark of pride, at that. hunter could be a divisive figure in london community, to say the least, but those aware of his surgical skill tended to look favourably upon him in a professional capacity. his tutelage conferred a certain level of dignity by association. tipping his head slightly, he replied, "i am fortunate to benefit from his knowledge. i know of no equal in anatomical skill."

he's quite good at that, too. ❛ here i was thinking you yourself might be a visitor. you're not english, are you? ❜

lewis' lips twisted downwards into a slight frown. he was not quite so sensitive about his accent these days as he had once been, but he was still not fond of comments made upon it. london always seemed to find a way to remind him that he'd never quite fit comfortably within it. he was not, however, in the habit of lying or being evasive, so he answered with his usual bluntness. "no. welsh. but," he added, "i have resided in london since 1819."

“Give them to me.”

still, hardly a reason to leave. ❛ a friend compells you then, i imagine? and for what purpose? ❜

"he is a visitor in london. he does not wish to attend these events alone, so he insists on my company — that is all."

❛ you flatter me, mister anwyl. icarus, if you don't mind, and we can dispose of the mister, ❜ icarus leans back against the wall, throat bared, an easy smile playing about his lips. ❛ you don't look horribly pleased to be here. ❜

"no — beg your pardon — i am not. these sort of events," he said, waving a hand to indicate, "are not to my taste."

" i was, yes. at st. bartholomew's. " perhaps it was merely imagination, but he thought he detected a note of surprise in the other man's voice, and his lips quirked in amusement. " i confess, it was an unusual choice, but i've long preferred what is useful to what is traditional... i did not study with him long, " he conceded, " but already it has proven quite valuable in my work. "

after a moment's hesitation, the welshman held out a hand for dr. enys to take. "mr. anwyl," he said, by way of introduction. "a disciple of mr. hunter — now house surgeon at guy's." he was hardly inclined, under normal circumstances, to introduce himself so warmly, but he was generally eager to make the acquaintance of fellow medical men with an interest in surgical matters.