Having been a very saught after surgeon, and paid well enough to afford the multistory house of his dreams connected to a very aesthetical graveyard to living in an inn looking for work, that was a kick in the teeth to a boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Of course, he had been disowned in college, but, he still always found a way to keep himself in money until now.

It was only right and proper to be respectful.

"Well, Boston wasn't fairing well with Prohibition and a lack of money after the Great War, I am not surprised I was attacked." He seemed to perk some then, as he pulled a small notebook from inside of his jacket and flipped back pages to a very rough sketch of the crossroads. "Would that be this crossroads, Physician Wen?" He asked as he held his sketch out. "I believe I arrived at the same one."