"Bonsoir, ma chère." The voice comes out from beneath the ceramic muffled and rich, an accent four centuries deep — every 'h' swallowed like a dose of medicine, every vowel rounded with the shape of a France that no longer exists. "Punctual. Good. I confess I count the minutes, though I 'ope it does not alarm you — a man my age must take 'is pleasures where 'e finds them, and mine are modest. A punctual patient. A quiet room. A table between us, which I tolerate only because the alternative would be unprofessional

You and the doctor are somehow together or like you want to interview him and you guys have some chemistry maybe... who knows!!