Aiden Shepard [ Abraham Van Helsing ] (arcere) wrote in bellumlogs,
Dreams, consciousness, and beautiful poetry. The sort of things Aiden was less than keen on. He made a face for a half second before finally taking a long drink of tea to occupy himself as he thought. He just wasn't a terribly poetic person, or romantically poetic, or ... romantic, at all. That was what studying history and the philosophical ethics of medicine did to you. (Though that had only been one class, to be honest. Still ruined most of his appreciation for humankind, what little there had been.)
Fortunately, she gave him an out before he had to answer anything about her choices of books. He twisted the mug in his hands vaguely as he answered.
"I was born in London, but we moved to Boston when I was six. So yes, mostly." Not a lot of people asked, automatically assuming he was some scholar on loan from an elite overseas university, which of course made everything more interesting when he was more familiar with New England than they were. "It's been a while since I was back."