Sun Mote Copse Can you feel the Schadenfreude?

The women were close to each other, as evidenced by their constant rubbing and praise of one another. He noted it with slight annoyance — if one was sick or disappeared, they would notice — but cast it aside. He would deal with it. He could deal with it.

A few random, unknown words were thrown around. He could not distinguish between name and title, though he did recognize Molech of all things. Molech, Molech, Molech. They were quite fanatical, weren't they? Surely they would tolerate a man of more...secular ideals if he proved himself useful enough. Children are of no problem for me, gnädige Frau. I know enough to treat sick children und help mothers with pregnancy, He said, his chest swelling with pride; he knew quite a lot for someone who would never bear children himself.

The Doktor shrugged at what Eshamun said about men's roles. Servants? Second to women? Das ist fine. A medic ist meant to be helpink, not to be leadink, anyway, gnädige Frau, He smiled, undisturbed or preturbed by the thought of being a servant to the women of the pack. He was a master of his own will and of his subjects, no one else. If it meant rolling onto his back everyonce and a while to sustain his wellbeing through the winter, so be it.