Asklepios was fairly certain that, at one time or another, he actually had attempted to play tennis. The results of that attempt were lost in a cosmic fugue of alcohol and disinterest. Maybe it was the same as his patients - she seemed to be talking to him not because she really cared if he'd played tennis or not but because she was trying to have a peaceful moment, somewhere. Asklepios knew the feeling all too well. Usually it took Philammon darkening his doorstep, bottle of wine in hand, to get Asklepios to drop what he was doing and try something new. Usually it took something more than just... being. Existing and doing nothing was hard enough for individuals of less drive than Eir. And himself. So if she wanted to know about his experience playing tennis Asklepios was in the mood to talk about tennis a bit more.
"I don't remember much about it, to be honest," Asklepios finally answered. "Other than being sore afterward. I like to think I was dashingly handsome in my too-short shorts. My polo shirt, and maybe some nice plain tennis shoes."
A stray thought came to him then; she'd shivered, and nothing had been done about it by him aside from a glib comment regarding how he would look in tennis attire. Wretched, but she was too sweet to say so, or at least sweet enough that he wouldn't be angry if she did. Frowning in what might be labeled 'physician's concern' by those who ever saw the look more than once, Asklepios glanced at her in much the same manner she was glancing at him and studied her expression with an experienced eye. She wasn't flush nor pale, at least not more than usual. Hair in disarray. She looked worn instead of truly ragged. Tired but not sick. And she didn't particularly look cold either.
"I've never been good at competition. Even when I was a boy. Chiron tried to teach me the sword once. He taught Achilles, but that was later. No, I just remember walking into his workshop one day and... there it was, spread out before me. Maybe I even had the same look on my face that Achilles did, when he was confronted by ten armed men. Herbs of every kind, these floral smells that seemed to follow you the rest of the day. Infect your dreams with wondrous thoughts of how it might feel to pick them, to dry them and use them. That was always what I wanted most. To me medicine was always the real challenge, to do what no one else could do through your arts. I can bring the dead back to life, heal any wound in half the time it normally takes if not less. Who wouldn't want to do that? Who wouldn't rather do that?"