Evening, after evening meal

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The sun had long dipped behind the mountains surrounding the castle, and long shadows had stretched infinitely across the greying lawns between the hospital hut and the tall towers of Hogwarts. Ignan could imagine the discussion going on there, ranging from how he had yet again tried to kill of his students, to the amount of blood, to the fact the lesson had to be prematurely cut short - which meant that he had to enforce the remainder of the list to complete it another day. The list was semi ruined anyway, having soaked up some of the blood his robes were, it wasn't sure who had completed the task and who hadn't now.

It was altogether a little too quiet in the hut, for which he had not spent large amounts of time in at any point. Students came and went to speak to the Tulojow, he could hear their voices, the comings and goings throughout the remainder of the afternoon from the point Tapendra had managed to get him there.

Thankfully the nausea had long since passed, and Ignan was now reunited with his splinched limb, but it had certainly knocked the wind out of his usual self in the shock of it all. The pain, the loss, and the surprise of doing something like that before so many people had left him feeling fairly exhausted and demoralised. He disliked getting old acutely, and living in a castle full of teenagers and staff a decade or two younger than him at least wasn't helping.

His arm ached still, anyone would be foolish to think it wouldn't after being amputated, and he'd had to drink a number of doses of blood replenishing potion, which was also to be expected, given how much of a mess his robes had been with it soaking in. It tasted as bad as ever, and he hadn't felt at all hungry, the house elves taking away their offerings. The smaller, helpful inhabitants of the castle had brought him a change of clothes at least, though his arm wrapped in a sling to stop him using it while everything reconnected within meant it had required some magic to dress decently. The top of his white shirt remained unbuttoned at the neck, jacket hooked on the bedpost. He was incredibly thankful to Tapendra for preserving both his severed hand and wand, considering.

Seated upon the edge of the bed in one of the rooms, contemplating whether he was lucid enough to get back to the castle and not be kept prisoner much longer, he heard the outer door open, and voices. This time, not a student, but the voice sounded familiar, yet not at all in the right place.

Hogwarts was...everything he had expected, and so far, even a few of the things he'd  dared to hope.  He expected that the swiftly change in the morning, but for now Georg figured he should bask in it. After all, one of the first things on the list of  requirements Georg had for this job had been that it wouldn't be dull, and if his first few hours in the castle were any indication, he might wind up longing for a dull day.

His orientation and brief hurried tour over - and the incredibly young Deputy Headmaster's lack of humor soundly impressed on him - he had asked around for Ignan and had been told he was in the Hospital Hut. He was a tad nervous, given how the two had parted and how...well. Ignan's interests were something Georg had witnessed the effects of, and he did not want them mucking up Hogwarts.

It might also the be fun to pop up now when Ignan wasn't expecting him, and as far as Georg was concerned that made it the best option by default.

He walked across the grounds towards the Hospital Hut, his cloak wrapped tightly around him due to the cold, and a bit heavier than normal due to the bottle in the inside pocket. The Hut, once he reached it, was warm and cheerful - only the scent of medical potions and the slight signs of disarray hinted at the hurried chaos of the late afternoon.

He introduced himself quickly to the Healer, knowing full well he'd probably send a few students her way in time. Once she assured him Ignan was awake and in something of a state to see a visitor, he knocked on the door of Ignan's room before opening it and stepping inside.

Georg was glad his face had long ago set to a defiantly stern expression; while some of Ignan's current state could be blamed on his splintching, Georg had somehow naively forgotten that his old colleague had gotten old. Last time he'd seen him face-to-face, Storm had not a single white hair upon his head.

He'd also had more hair in general.

"Hallo, Ignan," he said, to the break the silence. "I see you're as skilled at Appriating as ever."

There was a knock at the door, and Ignan's eyes raised half in frown. It didn't sound like Tulojow's knock, and the figure that stepped through the door was altogether different. Taller, more familiar from decades past. Ignan sat bolt upright at once, ignoring the protests from his arm and the sling around his neck.

"Hallo, Ignan, I see you're as skilled at Appriating as ever."

"And you're as intolerably incapable of aging." Ignan replied a beat later, his expression changing from suspicion to a hint of delight at his unexpected visitor. Finding his feet, a little wobbly in his haste, leaning to one side ever so slightly at he did before his balance caught up with him, he was presented with the awkward moment of not knowing to clap a hug on his old traveling partner, or pat his arm in a machismo greeting, or shake his hand. Not one for usually embracing people on a regular basis, it was one of the latter, and went for manly arm patting. Handshakes were too formal for old friends, even if they parted on uncertain terms.

"Georg, it has been a long, long time." He told his old companion. "Ten... twelve years?" Ignan's eyes raised automatically as he thought back the number of years it had been. It had been twelve years since he'd been removed from Italy, which had been how it had all ended when he and Georg had split ways. "No, longer, Merlin." He muttered, his eyes going back to his old friend's face.

"How are you, how have you been since we last saw each other?" He asked, gesturing for his fellow wizard to sit down, the only really available space was to perch at either ends of the bed, on the edge of it.

He was surprised, but glad, to be greeted nicely. His face split into a smile and he returned the pat with vigor.

"A very long time, Ignan," he agreed. "Twenty-two years, in fact." He chuckled. "Seems both longer and shorter, does it not? Aw, well."

He patted Ignan on his good shoulder and took the offered seat, pausing to stand and remove his cloak, pulling the bottle from ts depths.

"This is for you, apparently - tall fellow in the castle asked me to hand it to you," he said, passing the bottle of Firewhiskey to Ignan and folding his cloak. "As for how I have been?  Keeping busy, I suppose. I only stopped travelling a decade ago. But other than that - writing books, dueling. Boring things. Was rather longing for a change of pace." He figured it was best if they stayed off the subject of what they'd done right after they parted ways - for now, the least said about that incident, the better. 

"Interesting school, this - not as soft as I'd imagined," he said as he settled on the bed, his wry smile remaining. "From what they're all yelling about up at the castle, it seems you fit right in."

"A very long time, Ignan, twenty-two years, in fact." Georg chuckled, Ignan couldn't quite believe it had been so long - but as he thought about it, he realised it must have been.
"Seems both longer and shorter, does it not? Aw, well."

Georg returned the manly arm patting (not on his recently lost arm, thankfully, though Ignan wouldn't have put it past his old friend's mischievous ways) and then pulled a bottle from his cloak that Ignan recognised very well.

"This is for you, apparently - tall fellow in the castle asked me to hand it to you," Ignan smiled at the thought.
"Tapendra." He responded softly, eyes delighted with the sight of Ogden's firewhiskey. He'd just have to hide it if the healer poked her head in.
"As for how I have been?  Keeping busy, I suppose. I only stopped travelling a decade ago. But other than that - writing books, dueling. Boring things. Was rather longing for a change of pace."
"I don't think you've been up to boring things - you never did boring Georg." Ignan raised an eyebrow, and smirked.

"Interesting school, this - not as soft as I'd imagined, from what they're all yelling about up at the castle, it seems you fit right in." Ignan felt the bed adjust as Georg added his weight to the other end of the mattress. Ignan closed his eyes slightly and shook his head.
"It wouldn't be an interesting week for them if I hadn't tried to kill at least one student during lessons." He explained to Georg. "Honestly though, in our day at Durmstrang, it was unheard of if you got through a week without one of your classmates getting knocked out, and was actually something to look forward to doing on long evenings, with the dregs."

Durmstrang didn't operate on the same house system as Hogwarts, but selected students into strata according to their academic prowess. Both Ignan and Georg had been in the high flying category - though their academic lives hadn't crossed - their friendship had formed a long time later in Moscow. The Dregs at Durmstrang, were the lowest common denominator, and were either bullies or were bullied.

Ignan procured two glasses from the shelf of the bedside table, and used his wand to pour them both measures while casting furtive glances at the door. He handed one to Georg before raising his own to his old friend, not bringing them together, knowing that it might bring the woman in here to tell him he couldn't drink. Too late now, he'd knocked a good throat-full back and by Merlin it felt better for it.

"So, what are you doing at Hogwarts? You're not here to teach are you?" He had caught wind of the charms post, though he was normally less interested in Declan's whinings these days, and more interested in finishing the crossword before anyone else.
"Ha, it really is a small world." Ignan added, seeing Georg's expression.

"Fine, fine - boring by my standards," he said with a chuckle. "Ordinary civilized European wizards can count as boring after you've gone nundu hunting."

He sighed as he settled onto the bed. "I imagine teaching at Durmstrang was more interesting than here?" he asked, hoping to skirt around the mention of Ignan's father. "You've the advantage over me, in that respect; this'll be the first time I've taught anyone." He grunted. "Aside from tutoring other students at school and the bit of teaching we used to do to get money - not much experience."

He raised the glass as well and knocked the whiskey back in a quite well practiced swig. "I'm afriad your fears are true - as you might have guessed, I've taken up the Charms job. Seemed a more interesting prospect than writing - though if you're trying to kill the students..." He trailed off and chuckled again, deciding to give Ignan the benefit of the doubt. "Shall have to see who racks up the most injuries in our respective classes, eh? It'll keep them on their toes." He grinned; Durmstrang's much more competitive environment raised a very different kind of wizard - one that didn't think getting tossed through a window was that big of a deal.

"A small world indeed. From what I hear, the previous Charms professor was a nice man." His smile turned thin and slightly michevious. "The first few days should be quite fun, if that was the case. Any promising students or Professors among the bunch?" he quietly poured himself another glass, only pouring half of it. "From what I hear, Hogwarts doesn't seem to encourage its students to succeed - nor does it cultivate a sense of humor, if your acting Headmaster's any judge."

"A small world indeed. From what I hear, the previous Charms professor was a nice man. The first few days should be quite fun, if that was the case. Any promising students or Professors among the bunch?" he quietly poured himself another glass, only pouring half of it. "From what I hear, Hogwarts doesn't seem to encourage its students to succeed - nor does it cultivate a sense of humor, if your acting Headmaster's any judge."

Ignan wrinkled his nose.
"Nice man would just about describe him. Nice being the word you use when you're being polite about someone's mediocrity?" Ignan commented. "No, perhaps I'm a bit harsh, having only worked with him a few months. Fleetfoot and I might not have always seen eye to eye, he had a much more gentle way of teaching. Mine tends to be survival of the fittest." He winced, and thought about Noriko as he heard himself say it. Damn getting old.

"Promising students, yes, there are a few amongst them. There are also a lot of them who think they meet that description. Complacency in peacetime. Hatred for theory in quite a few of them, which I'm sure you'll discover can be quite counter-productive when you're up against a stiff mark scheme for the ruddy exams." He shook his head and finished his glass.

"The staff, all appallingly young, with a few exceptions. Watch what side of Hildegarde Austerlitz you get - its of great advance to be on the right side. Tapendra's a fine example of youth gone right, something between the ears there. You'll have your own thoughts once you encounter them all I'm sure." He shrugged. "Oh, and our acting Headmaster, is usually just a deputy, and rather likes to pretend he's more than that. Sounds like you have the measure of him already though... and spotted the broom handle up his backside." Ignan's lips curled up into a smirk.

His arm gave a twinge, nerves reconnecting. Hopefully he'd regain the use of his fingers swiftly. Even with magic, things took time, and for now, his hand was as good as asleep. His eyes glanced down at the semi useless limb at the pain and a frown crossed his features.

"I am sure you'll be fine with teaching. You didn't do too badly while we were on the road. I think its possible that that poor village of Mongolians still think that 'hello bastards' is an appropriate greeting for any new wizards who arrive." It had been a bet, that Georg couldn't do it, which Ignan had lost.

Suddenly the defence professor realised with a sudden feeling of his stomach dropping, that that was the same village that had coincidentally had two brothers die on the same night in their beds, and Georg had caught Ignan slinking back in before dawn scorgifying blood off his hands, adding another nail in the coffin for the two of them falling out.

"Good to hear, though I had hoped there would be more of them, with some of the alumni reputations this school has," Georg said, sipping his whiskey. "I'll find out which ones they are soon enough, I suppose; from the papers left behind I've been lead to believe some of the students are quite good at Charms, at least. Let us hope that naive thought proves to be the truth."

His grin turned to the leering smirk Ignan had seen him wear for decades; it was Georg's 'talking about women' grin. "Yes, I have to say the female professors are, for the most part, surprisingly young and quite pleasing to the eye." He laughed again. "To be a few decades younger, eh?"

Setting his glass aside, he shrugged. "I've heard of Austerlitz - had hoped to meet with her, actually, as I have some artifacts she may find of interest. Hopefully I make the right impression. And that Tapendra seemed a bit grouchy chap. Had a student by the ear when I encountered him. Something about 'inciting panic'." From the girl's squeals, she hadn't agreed with her Professor's judgment; Georg had been handed the bottle, directed to the Hut, and then watched bemusedly as the girl got dragged to her Head of House.

At the mention of Declan he drank again. "As for Mister O' Morain - I look forward to working with him." His tone said everything else; Declan looked like fun. Toeing the line would keep things fresh and interesting, he was sure. And drive the stiff young man crazy in the meantime, which Georg felt could do him nothing but good.

"Hah! True, Ignan," he said as the topic shifted to their travels. "But there's a difference between those that want to learn and  those that have to," he said, and while he laughed at the old story, the sobering effect was there for him as well. He resisted the urge to sigh; that was a conversation he would rather have later, once he had his feet on the ground here. Though this quite pleasant interaction was giving him hope.

"I understand a student recently died," he said, to change the subject. "That's the reason there's Aurors about, isn't it?"

"I understand a student recently died, that's the reason there's Aurors about, isn't it?"

Ignan raised his eyes and sighed.
"Yes, most unfortunate circumstances." He confirmed to Georg, and swallowed, his eyes looking away from his old friend, to the walls of the hospital hut, which had been quite a focal point of the whole evening.
"Young Slytherin girl, Ava Grosvenor. Promising mind, though I knew her for precious little time before her death." He shook his head. "She and a Ravenclaw boy, Sasha Schlagenweit went missing on an evening. Schlagenweit's supposedly been up to other things - complicated background, lost his family recently, and now very quick to draw his wand on his counterparts. I had my wand to the back of his head a week or two earlier over him attempting to torture a classmate in the middle of a lesson."

Realising he wasn't painting a very promising view of Sasha, who was still somewhat an enigma to Ignan over everything. He was pretty sure Sasha was worth the trouble for, somewhere, that he was just given a vastly hyped up description of the boy, just as he was to Georg.
"I am not sure of the exact details, but we searched the castle and the grounds. Tapendra and I were assigned to the forest - and came across Schlagenweit and Grosvenor, only Grosvenor was already dead. Brought them here, and the rest is almost as exact as the newspapers report it." He explained glumly. "We were questioned ourselves, though I submitted memories to pensieve to avoid most of them. Aurors are so ham-fisted with memories, don't you find?"

The last comment was rather more a throwback of previous crossings with aurors, rather than the British ones.
"Trishna's alright - I have a fair idea who he was dragging off, and it was for my benefit. He was there when this happened, and got me here." Ignan gestured with his wand hand to his sling.
"Ministry thought it would be a good idea if the students all knew how to perform side along apparition and also prevent themselves from being forced to. Can't do it anywhere within the grounds - so we ended up in Hogsmeade. Left my arm attached to a first year Slytherin girl. Noriko Wakahisa - don't let her play coward in your class, Georg." He reached up and adjusted the sling on his neck.
"Merlin, you don't realise how heavy your limbs are until they're tied round your neck, do you?" Then he smirked, "No, I take that back - I'm well aware, just not normally my own limbs. Three Broomsticks isn't bad for a drink on a night."

At that ambiguous comment, he poured himself another fire whiskey, the bottle depleting at a steady rate, and topped up Georg's glass too.

"So why teaching here then? You say a change of pace, but surely you'd have offers all over the place. Number of people who wanted us to stay longer for their little projects? Or is it a case of itchy feet?"

It had always been the case that they'd linger a place a while, just long enough to soak in the culture, have some fun, chase some skirt, learn something, and then one of them would hear of something and within a day they'd be gone, to the next adventure. That was the whole joy of being free to travel, and not stuck in one place, one linear job... like teaching. Another reason they were both getting old.

"I've heard some about Schlagenweit - been catching up on the Daily Prophet since I arrived. Seems to be a rather ...troubled boy," he said, diplomatically. He made a mental note to be cautious in his classes - if what Ignan and the Prophet said were accurate, he'd have to watch who he aimed the boy at during practice.

"Hah! We'll see how Miss Wakahisa does, then; though after today, I wonder if I'll see her at all 'til next week, if she's a coward. Be hiding in her dorm if she can, I expect." He smiled a bit ruthlessly; at Durmstrang she'd have gotten dragged to her lessons regardless, but here...perhaps not.

"You and I shall have to patronize the Three Broomsticks at some point, then," he added in a lighter tone. "Was a bit disappointed to see there's only two bars here; the ones in London were rather pleasant."

He accepted the whiskey gratefully and raised his glass again. "Why here? Hah. It is indeed a small world - my remaining family has set up here in England, and I've been rather negligent of them all these years. My grand-niece is a student this year as well, and while Durmstrang would have been my first choice, well." He smiled warmly. "My sister and I have not spent as much time together as we should. That, and -" he paused, trying to figure out how to put it politely. "You were a deciding factor," he said, finally. He put his glass aside and folded his hands in his lap.

"Call it naivety, if you will - had rather hoped you'd calmed down, with the passage of years." He stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "And indeed you might find it silly, but I had rather missed you, old friend. There and many people on the road but very quite quite like yourself."

"Hah! We'll see how Miss Wakahisa does, then; though after today, I wonder if I'll see her at all 'til next week, if she's a coward. Be hiding in her dorm if she can, I expect." Georg grinned.

"I think her house motto prevents that, but at any rate, I'm not sure she'll grace my classroom in any great hurry." He agreed with Georg.

"You and I shall have to patronize the Three Broomsticks at some point, then," Georg added in a lighter tone. "Was a bit disappointed to see there's only two bars here; the ones in London were rather pleasant."

"Mm." Ignan agreed, sipping his whiskey at the time.

"Why here? Hah. It is indeed a small world - my remaining family has set up here in England, and I've been rather negligent of them all these years. My grand-niece is a student this year as well, and while Durmstrang would have been my first choice, well. My sister and I have not spent as much time together as we should. That, and -" he paused, trying to figure out how to put it politely. "You were a deciding factor." Ignan raised an eyebrow quizzically. 

"Call it naivety, if you will - had rather hoped you'd calmed down, with the passage of years." He stroked his moustache thoughtfully. "And indeed you might find it silly, but I had rather missed you, old friend. There and many people on the road but very quite quite like yourself."

"Ah." Ignan replied, lowering his eyes. "I'm flattered." He told Georg softly, and drew himself upright again, contemplating how best to reply to that.

"I've been, calm since Voldemort was lost again." The Defences Professor assured the new Charms Professor. "Not because of that - but I think I finally realised what you meant, only a decade later. Took me long enough, didn't it." He meant it rhetorically, his expression displeased with himself. That ugly little voice in the back of his head that had revisited him while torturing those frogs in front of the fifth years. The one that had niggled at the corner of his mind that he could do so much worse to those students fighting it out over barrels on the grounds, if he only twisted his wand this way and that, or used a little more intent.
"Nobody here knows about that, wouldn't really go down very well, given my reputation for almost killing my students just by teaching them their required curriculum." He picked up his wand and turned it in his fingertips adeptly, eyes studying the grain for nicks and scratches.
"You don't want to know, Georg, and I don't blame you."

Turning his eyes from his wand, he looked at Georg again properly with his grey blue eyes and moderated his expression.
"How is the family, anyhow? And what of this grand-niece? No children of your own to banish in foreign schools?"

Despite the rather grim and uncomfortable subject matter, Georg couldn't help but feel relieved that Ignan seemed to have calmed his...well, calmed his darker side. He even seemed to regret his actions somewhat, which was more than Georg had truly let himself hope for. The older, more cynical part of him knew h'ed still keep and eye on Ignan; but it was a start, at least. He smiled, his normal subtle one.

"Good," was all he said - and all that needed to be said, at least for now. He couldn't help a slight smirk, though. "I don't know; the chases with dark wizards and other misadventures could prove quite educational - and you could always emulate some of them in a slightly safer manner. Bit of realistic application, eh? Sadly, your subject has a bit more leniency that mine does, I think - probably a good thing. I'd love to drag the students into the Forest, otherwise; heard a lot about it."

He sipped from the whiskey again. "Hah! If I've any children the mother hasn't come forward," he said, chuckling. "But no, none of my own. Never really found the time - or the lady worth making the time for. My sister, however, got herself married several years ago - had a daughter." He paused; he'd been as surprised as Anna had been to find out about his niece's sexual orientation, but Georg had seen a lot of things in his life; two women in a romantic relationship was hardly upsetting to him, just unexpected.

"My grand-niece is adopted; her parents died to the Death Eaters," he continued, skipping the lesbian issue entirely. "Promising girl, though; good with her wand and level-headed." He'd been very pleased with Jane, especially with how quickly she'd picked up Charms. "Though from what she tells me, most of her house can't say the same - Jane got sorted into Gryffindor. She tells me some days she wishes she could hex some sense into the lot of them."

"Hah! If I've any children the mother hasn't come forward, but no, none of my own. Never really found the time - or the lady worth making the time for. My sister, however, got herself married several years ago - had a daughter."

Ignan shared a genuine smile. He was much the same, after all these years. The two of them had wound up with women in all sorts of places, enjoying themselves. It wasn't the best of relationships, but one got lonely on the road, even with a good friend beside you... which is somewhere you didn't go... ever.

"My grand-niece is adopted; her parents died to the Death Eaters," Georg explained swiftly, "Promising girl, though; good with her wand and level-headed. Though from what she tells me, most of her house can't say the same - Jane got sorted into Gryffindor. She tells me some days she wishes she could hex some sense into the lot of them."

"She shares my opinion." Ignan smirked, thinking of the particular Gryffindor student. He'd have to watch out for her - Merlin knew how long she'd been informing on him.
"I've not got any either - but Imelda has of course. All far too late before I'd contemplated setting out on things. I'd say I regret it - but after teaching for six... seven years, not at all." He shook his head. "Instead, I have passive charge of a great nephew living in Hogsmeade, who up until recently liked to settle everything with a fist, rather than a wand. Still, far less irritating than other extended family - you must meet Johann. I'm sure you'd both get on."

His eyes raised as he thought about his relative,
"Or perhaps not, the two of you might drive me to distraction. He asks a lot of questions." Ignan shook his head at the thought of Johann gleefully hearing the tales of what Georg and Ignan got up to. Hopefully Georg recognised the fact Ignan wasn't keen to disclose his decade and a bit of being a hired wand.

"I'm glad you're here Georg - impeccable timing as always - life was beginning to get dull at Hogwarts."  Ignan raised his glass to Georg.
"To the old days."

Lowering his voice, he added,
"Now, help me get the hell out of here."

"Really? Yes, you'll have to introduce us," Georg said. He'd met enough of Ignan's relatives to know one getting a good review would certainly be worth his time; as for the ones with...neutral reviews from Ignan, well. He'd gone to school under Merik. That was really all that needed to be said. Merik Storm made Snark look sweet.

"Don't worry; I'll only tell the embarrassing stories," he said, with a wink. "There's plenty of those, especially if this Johann doesn't know much about your early life or your...well. If we're going for embarrassing, I'm sure the 'misadventures with  ladies' category will win every time." He grunted. "Those are the ones I don't tell poor Anna - don't think she could handle it."

He raised his glass in response. "Glad to be here, Ignan. To the old days, good and bad," he said, and knocked back the rest of the whiskey, setting the glass aside.

"Now, help me get the hell out of here."

Georg's face split into an excited grin, and he too lowered his voice. "That's more like it," he said, standing almost silently. He looked about the room - the window seemed the best option, obviously. Cocking his head to the side. he looked at Ignan.

"How do you want to go about this?"

"That way, I think." Ignan replied, having seen the way Georg was looking. With a flick of his wand, the two glasses returned to the bedside table beside the now empty bottle. Ignan hope that the recent loss and regain of blood, along with his arm, and now half a bottle of whiskey wasn't going to mean his legs had entirely lost him again.

Finding his feet took a moment, but he was up, and followed Georg to the window to examine the route. Between them, they edged a stiff window open silently (muffliato cast severely on the hinges using wordless magic, which both of them were proficient in, given their age) stealing glances back to the main room and keeping up occasional conversation. After all, a lack of noise was far more telling of mischief than a lot of noise in situations like this.

With a bit of effort (neither of them as flexible as they used to be at shimmying out of windows, and having one arm working made it even more inconvenient) the two old friends made it out the window, and peered back into the room like two thieves, trying their best not to laugh with alcohol induced sniggering at their behaviour.
"Come on, before she notices and puts me in a full body bind to ensure I stay put. I know where there's another bottle, and there's a certain tall wizard who we owe at least some of it to."

He'd have some explaining to do to the healer another day, but out in the cold air of the February night, warmed by whiskey, with his oldest friend reunited beside him, Ignan didn't care, and wore a genuine smile upon his wrinkled features. Good thing it was dark.