Douglas gave it a thought then shook his head as he sipped the glass just refilled.  "Nae.  Where I 'ave my 'ome, we have strong lasses, those with spines.  Dinna need tae lose their feminine natures tae be strong of spirit and physique."  He explained.  "I've sculpted a strong female body, a warrior, but believe me, all female."

"One of the masters' that I studied with in my early years, one that was kicked oot of town for his methods,"  He raised a brow thinking back to how he had not understand until his father explained why.  "had us touch a living body tae get the 'feel' of what it should feel like under our hands."  He was spoking here of the muscular shape of the body but this master had them do naked sculptures of males and females which had been what had caused the issue.  "Delicate lasses definitely feel different than the stronger hard-working lass."

"I dinna think a delicate lass like what I usually 'ave aroond me would last it in the 'ighlands, let alone with one of my moods, but if I am convinced tae marry and 'ave bairns it would take a special lass."

So yes, maybe he was drinking this glass fast out of sheer petulance. So what?

"I suppose..." he said. "That does sound like an unusual method of teaching, though I suppose you'd have to get to know the human body in some way if you were to sculpt it..."Tristan took another bite of his potatoes but found himself to be full, and put his cutlery down. "To be honest, I always believed artistic circles to be more... liberal, you know..."

[CW: Reference to child molesting]



Douglas relaxed there in the chair and nodded.  "Aye, there is that, but there is a difference between liberal with seeing naked bodies and the like, and using preteens tae get yur pleasure.  Especially, when they are young enough or are only there by sponsorship, sae knae that if they complain or say something they will be sent back 'ome."  He had mentioned it to his father on one of his Christmas breaks home, as he had been old enough to know it was not right, but not old enough to know what to do about it.  He and his father had been close, and that had been his solution.  He did not know exactly what happened but the master had been replaced that next term and no one had been sent home.

That brought a look of horror on Tristan's face. "I did not realize you were so young. Certainly that's wrong, and that teacher ought to have been handed over to the authorities." He grimaced. He had talked to enough mentally ill patients to know that there were certain things children should not be exposed to.

"I dinna know what was done.  But I think my da had a satisfied look on his face when I next visited with 'im and told 'im I 'ad changed art teacher.  Sae, I 'eard much later from some of the artist that that particular artists quit painting due to something wrong with 'is 'and.  Coincident?  Perhaps."  He shrugged.  His father had never spoken of it and was now beyond confirming his hypothesis.

Tristan raised his eyebrows. He did not approve of people taking the law into their own hands, though he couldn't bring himself to feel very sorry for the teacher. He poured himself and his friend another glass of wine to forget it altogether. "Dessert?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation back to lighter things. "I'm quite full, but it would be a pity to let it go to waste."

Douglas had moved on past it other than it had been a part of his history.  The later parts of his life had been much more traumatic (at the front) to his emotional status and were the things that came back to him more than he liked to say.  He looked at the dessert and nodded. 

"Aye, wouldnae think we should waste that."  He smiled leaning up to the table again.  "I do 'ave a sweet tooth."  He admitted.  He was feeling quite loose and relaxed thanks to the wine and company.  "Then we should get tae that whiskey of yurs before we 'ave tae much wine tae know if it is good or not."  He chuckled sipping the newly filled wine glass.

Tristan helped himself to one of the apple tarts. "Oh, you're quite right. This should be the last glass of wine. I must admit, I usually don't drink this much, and we haven't reached the whiskey yet, so I must ask your forgiveness in advance, if I seem like an idiot for the rest of the evening." - an idea that would usually mortify him, but that now provoked a snort. And then his own unexpected snort provoked something between a laugh and a giggle. Oh dear.

Douglas reached over for one of the tarts as well.  Putting it on his plate, he gave a slight smile of humor hearing the snort from his companion.  "Nae an issue.  We are enjoying ourselves and when it comes tae whiskey, it does make for interesting evenings when applied liberally."  He winked as he took a bite of the tart.

Tristan tried to regain himself, still sober enough to realize that he was embarrassing himself, but not sober enough to fully control his reactions. Indeed, when Douglas winked at him, he flustered, and quickly put the glass to his lips again to hide it - as if that would help.

After taking a sip and composing himself, he sat the glass down. "Well, then, I'm glad to know you feel that way. I say as long as we stay out of jail, it will be a good night," he said with a teasing smirk in Douglas' direction.