Assistant Head was a little impressive, because Macnair didn't look that old. Older than Ford, sure, but still in the same general age bracket that Ford considered himself and Noble to be in, and not in that other one, with people who were real, actual adults. Nevermind that Witch Weekly seemed to think he was enough of an adult to write stories about him, and nevermind behind the head of his family; Ford still felt like he was a bit of an overgrown teenager, sometimes (particularly when he had to act the head of the family). He didn't know exactly how old Macnair was, though, so maybe it wasn't as impressive as he thought. He didn't really know much about hospitals, either, except that Noble sold potions to them and apparently some of their healers were a little unhinged (but Darrow didn't work at St. Mungo's, did he? Ford didn't think he did).

Macnair leaning back in his chair and crossing his leg had an almost magnetic effect on him; his insides tugged a little in a way he didn't understand. He looked so effortlessly confident, sitting like that, as though he were the uncrowned king of the gentleman's club. Ford had already decided earlier in this conversation that he would like Macnair to like him, but before it had been mostly for the girls' sake, because it would have made Verity happy. As Macnair looked him over, though, taking stock of him, Ford realized that he quite desperately wanted Macnair to like him just for his own merits. He wasn't sure if he wanted to befriend Macnair or if he wanted to be Macnair, but he did know that if the other man finished his inventory of Ford and declared him wanting in any significant way, he would be utterly devastated.

"Spirit Division," he supplied, a little too quickly. He was nervous now, and he wanted to recall that disaffected air he'd had a moment ago when talking about his family but he didn't know how.