Stocky Strength

His hands are large, but they move with a deftness about his work. The broad shoulders hunch over his screenboard, as though he carries the weight of Atlantis on his shoulders.

In medical matters of Atlantis, maybe he does.

From the vantage point of the doorway, it's possible to watch the doctor at work. A gentle man and a gentleman, although not without his moments of pique and exasperation. He moves about his work with a doggedness that speaks of focus, but has a moment to smile at the assistant who brings her screenboard to him, asking a question about the tests they've run on the people in the city.

There is strength in the stocky frame, determination in the set of the jaw, and the apologetic sense of a man who is out of his depth and knows it, but is willing to try his best - when goaded to it.

He points something out, and the young woman exclaims in sudden understanding. He smiles broadly - the open response of a man who should never be asked to lie outright, and his gaze falls upon the figure standing in the doorway beyond.

Gazes meet and hold for a moment, but the connection is broken as she looks away, abashed to be caught staring.

It's not polite.

- fin -