Charles, seated in his chair, narrowed his eyes. He could sense the waves of the Doctor's brain activity constantly shifting, rising and falling sharply. Clearly, the Doctor was thinking about something that required a decision—but it did not seem to be anything good. The smile at the corner of his mouth reminded Charles of a seasoned fox.
But sometimes, Charles thought, there was not much difference between a hunter and a fox. Perhaps the Doctor did not know that the man sitting before him was a hunter—a hunter blessed with astonishing talent, born exceptional.
Before coming here, Charles had investigated Schiller's background. He had not merely learned about him from Nick Fury; in fact, amid the complicated thoughts within the hospital, he had also heard plenty of rumors about the Doctor.
The rumors were varied and chaotic, but most shared one thing in common. No matter what the medical staff thought of Schiller Rodriguez, they all acknowledged his professionalism with complete respect and considered him an outstanding psychiatrist.
But that was not what Charles wanted. Such broad praise would not give him any advantage in the conversation to come. What he wanted was more private information—simply put, gossip.
Unlike the gentle appearance the Doctor presented, there had never been a shortage of rumors about him in the hospital. What interested Charles most were certain stories regarding Schiller's personal conduct.
Was Schiller a good doctor? Of course he was. But was he truly a good person? Judging by the vast majority of thoughts, that was far from certain.
After gathering all those thoughts, Charles found that opinions of Doctor Schiller were mixed. One major criticism was that, when he had worked at Presbyterian Hospital, he had missed several extremely important consultations and was frequently late, delaying matters both large and small.