If Bruno even notices this man easing himself into his own personal rhythm he gives no indication. Said rhythm is easily shifted, thoughts and words and actions syncopated with one another, seemingly chaotic until one listens more deeply. It's there, a kind of pulse that fades into perception almost from outside his mind. And then it clicks into place that the syncopation is a smokescreen, something meant to stop Bruno's thoughts falling into this deeper rhythm.

It's clear that Pepa had taken charge of the tea--a surprisingly painstaking process involving a French press and very exact measurements--so Bruno answers, a slight, proud smile on his face.

"Yeah... people come to her when they're injured or are sick with something like a fever." He chuckles. "We have one doctor here, who's bored out of his mind most of the time. I think he's taken up painting."