When the English Crumpet walked through the doors of the Medical Centre, looking all fine and heating up the air around him with his sexy smouldering frown, Beatrice hastily spat the rice cake she was chewing on onto the desk in front of her. Luckily, he didn't see her do this.
"Nathan Coventon, twenty-seven, hailing from Nottingham – just like Robin Hood!" she sang blithely, reading from the chart she had extracted that bore his details. She typed the news of his arrival into the computer system and looked up at him, illuminated. "If you just wait a while, one of the doctors will pop out to see you in a bit. Why so glum, dearie?"
He was probably sad because his wife was such a rude and unpleasant person, Beatrice thought, with great pity. She would never be so rude as to suggest such a thing, however, so she settled for smiling widely at him in an effort to cheer him up a little.