Senga asked him, feeling nervous as she looked intae they sky blue eyes ae his when he arrived at the table. “Ah’m fine noo,” he replied, smiling, gieing her a wee peck and a cuddle before sitting doon under the watchful eyes ae The Tormentor and Dickheid Dick. “Ye smell lovely.” “That’s how aw us nineteen-year-aulds smell…especially wae a wee bit ae help fae Nina Ricci’s L’Air du Temps,” she replied smiling…relaxing. “Oh, Ah see that it’s different wummin oan the tea and juice the day,” she noticed, disappointed, nodding towards the auld dears, who wur beavering away doon at the far end ae the gym hall. “Aye, Ah heard ye wur being entertained the last time ye wur doon here,” he said drily. “Ah goat tae know Alison Crawford efter she wis admitted tae The Royal wae gunshot wounds. Ah wis a trainee nurse at the time and she wis wan ae ma first patients…at least, the first real patient that hid life-threatening injuries.
