Dorothea realizes now that after five years of war, she had much the same thought lingering in the back of her mind, lying in wait to be acknowledged. What was the point of it all? At the time she could see the justification of it—believed in it, truly, even as it pained her to play such a crucial role in it. Only out here did it finally seem right to give it voice, this stranger’s own words serving to help spur it on.

Less of a stranger now, as he introduces himself. “Doctor,” she says, clasping her hands in front of her and offering a slight nod of her head in greeting. Enough of the tension has drained from her now that she sees no reason not to return his politeness in kind, though it is somewhat strained. “Dorothea Arnault,” she replies in kind.

She eyes him, taking in his curious appearance once more. One thing he has mentioned sticks out in her mind. “Immortality, hmm? Such a curious thing to seek.”