“No, no, go ahead,” he waved a hand towards the same chair she had, as if she hadn’t already indicated where she had planned on sitting or there was a question of it mattering where she could sit. He made no move to cover his sketches, though it occurred to him belatedly that some might have thought it strange or intrusive to sketch out strangers from a distance. As she had made no note about it, he figured it was acceptable enough. That maybe it just had to do with sketching out strangers badly in either tone or skill. For all that he could have chosen the architecture of the room to chase the lines of with his pencil, or gone and drawn buildings out of his memory, people seemed better suited to his mood.

“Well,” he told her, a smile pulling at his lips, “You can’t go wrong with cookies.” It was strange how life twisted beyond your plans, going every which way until you could no longer tell which way was up and which was down. Steve nodded after a moment, the smile falling away for more sober thoughts. “It is a noble profession.” Whether the words might have seemed trite or old-fashioned to her, he didn’t know, but he meant every word he said. “I’ve seen the kind of good you doctors can do, and there’s not a time or a place I don’t think your skills could go unappreciated.”