Dr. Barlow is taking her tea in the mess when Count Volger appears.
He's looking for someone – presumably one of the other members of his party – but they must not be present, because when his eyes alight on her, he walks over. It's the polite thing to do.
He's not being polite; or rather he's being more polite than the situation perhaps calls for. An interesting shade of rudeness. To be expected.
"Doctor," he says, giving her a very correct bow. His accent is noticeable, but not unpleasantly thick.
"Count," she says, inclining her head. She stirs her tea, lays down the spoon, and takes a sip. He is still standing beside her table. She waits deliberately for another moment, then, when she is sure of his understanding her own shade of rudeness, says, "Do have a seat, please."
He sits. "May I inquire as to the health of your eggs?"
She allows a small smile. "They're as well as can be expected, given recent conditions."
"I am delighted to hear it," the count says. There is not a trace of delight in his voice.
"How are your engines?"
"In excellent working order, thank you," he says. He adds drily, "Somewhat to my surprise."
She takes another sip. "How wonderful," she says, without a trace of wonder. "Tell me, Count Volger, what's your opinion of Midshipman Sharp? If I may ask."
He's silent for a moment. Perhaps he's wondering why she's asked; perhaps not. "Reckless and overconfident," he finally says. "Although not, I think, without reason."
"My thoughts as well," she says.
He touches the edge of the tablecloth, straightening it by a minute fraction. "It's rare to find such self-possession in a boy that age."
"Midshipman Sharp is a rarity," she agrees. At her feet, Tazza whines. Although Dr. Barlow does not encourage begging, she delicately breaks off a piece of her biscuit and holds it low enough for the thylacine to eat. She notices that Volger tracks the movement, and brushes her fingers off on the napkin in her lap. "I'm sure your ward will miss such a loyal friend."
"Indeed," he says. "I will admit, as much as I dislike the chaos that has overtaken all of my plans… I'm rather glad that Alek has had this experience."
"I would imagine that this has been quite character-building for him," Dr. Barlow says.
Another fractional adjustment of the tablecloth. "So it has."
She's running out of tea to sip, and Volger is glancing around again, looking for his comrade. "Do you play chess, Count Volger?"
He refocuses on her. "Forgive me, Doctor, but I believe we have been for some time already."
"Yes," she says. She smiles at him again. "I believe we have."
He smiles briefly in return, then stands and gives her another bow. "Good day, Doctor."
"Good day," she says, and finishes her tea as he walks away.
