[Like a child, snapped at to clean himself up. Annoyance flares dimly, along with amusement; he probably does look like a child as he tries. He can't see, won't rise to find a mirror, can't muster enough clean spit to be helpful, and much of the grace has bled out of his hands. But he tries, and perhaps there's a sense of dignity in the way he straightens his spine while he does it, gathering himself for the long walk to come.]
Leander. [It isn't an impossible name to know by any stretch; still, they'd might as well be formally introduced. And since he not only stole a secret, but weaponized it, it only seems fair—] Named for a character in a book. By one of the sisters at the orphanage. [A pause to flatten the scarf over his palm, find a clean place, wipe it across his open mouth.] In the story, he dies.
[Again he folds the cloth to its cleanest, holds it up, doesn't look at Isaac while he does it. If any conspicuous smears remain, he'll have to do his duty as a healer and finish. Then Leander will be ready for the rest.]
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Leander. [It isn't an impossible name to know by any stretch; still, they'd might as well be formally introduced. And since he not only stole a secret, but weaponized it, it only seems fair—] Named for a character in a book. By one of the sisters at the orphanage. [A pause to flatten the scarf over his palm, find a clean place, wipe it across his open mouth.] In the story, he dies.
[Again he folds the cloth to its cleanest, holds it up, doesn't look at Isaac while he does it. If any conspicuous smears remain, he'll have to do his duty as a healer and finish. Then Leander will be ready for the rest.]