A Question Along the Way

Cathy Webb was not much of a talker. Of course, Henry did not bluntly ask whether she had no parents, or whether she had grown up in an orphanage or foster home.

Questions like that were far too rude for someone he barely knew.

Cathy Webb's lack of hobbies actually stemmed from financial hardship during her formative years. Naturally, she had not been able to afford many interests, much less explore them. Unless she had been willing to degenerate, in which case there would have been plenty of ways to have fun. But she had not gone down that path.

Now that she had more money on hand, her personality had more or less settled as well. Unless she experienced some earth-shattering change in her life, she would probably remain this plain for the rest of it.

But when it came to rescue-related matters, this woman who claimed to know nothing became much more talkative.

Whether it was cutting-edge first-aid techniques or adapting to unexpected circumstances on the scene, she could not only offer theories and reasoning, but sometimes share insights drawn from her own experience.

Frontline rescue workers like her were comparable to hospital emergency doctors and nurses—versatile helpers who needed to know a bit about everything and be capable of handling anything.

At the very least, when she saw a situation, she needed to know which direction to investigate instead of seeing someone bleeding from the head and insisting their foot hurt. The harm caused by a misdiagnosis was far worse than mere lack of medical skill.

Henry, who had once operated on the streets of Los Angeles as the Tinkerer, naturally had plenty to discuss with her on that subject. Sometimes, they even talked about elder care, which fit Henry's current work quite well.

So, without realizing