Dayshift 31 -- Doctor's Office 8 [Dr Disraeli]

[damned-doctors.livejournal.com]

Adjusting to having his own office was something of a new experience for Jizabel. He was more used to house calls or being given a room at the residence he was staying at, a much more personal approach to the profession. This, however, was a bit more official. His own office set alongside those of the other doctors, his "colleagues" for the time being, arranged to his specifications without the slightest flaw-- nothing from his own experiences could even compare. But really, he didn’t need to compare at all. He had realized the differences of this place from the moment he’d entered and could be reminded of them with just a glance up from his desk.

An environment that was already nicely controlled-- he supposed any could be given the right standards, but it was strange that he wasn’t the one pulling the strings this time. Nothing to set up or keep tabs on for once. Perhaps that was the reason why he was just a little anxious for these therapy sessions to begin; these patients were not ones he had chosen himself.

Absentmindedly tapping the edge of his glasses on the desktop, he waited for the first of his patients to be shown in, mulling over just what personality type he wanted for this setting. The goal of these first meetings was to appear friendly, maybe earn some bits of trust if these patients would be willing to give some, yet still come across as a caring, professional individual that wanted to help. His portrayal of Dr. Allen was too casual for this, and Dr. Hathaway a little too suspicious. Meetings were going to be separated though, and he hadn’t taken any false names here, so he did have the option to deal in a case-by-case manner. That thought left a trace smirk on his lips. He rather doubted any of his assigned patients would care for how he acted anyway, but it never hurt to feign consideration.

Not when it was all just an act.

A knock at the door drew his attention away from his thoughts. That would be the first then. Skye Smith. Frosting himself over with a welcoming air and a pleasant smile, he set his glasses neatly in place and called for them to enter.

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[1mperturbable.livejournal.com]

He was going to see a doctor.

Cloud had never liked the thought of seeing a doctor under such controlled circumstances, especially after his meeting with his mother. This seemed like a new trap to fall into, to twist his already ailing mind to be something that he could no longer control. He needed to be in control now. People were counting on him again, and he was hesitant to allow anything close to the stigma that he was becoming a 'head case' again arise.

He had been planning on what he might do. He had been stooling on the matter since reading on the board that he was slated to receive therapy. His previous experience with 'therapy' involved being asked to relax a moment before a needle was jammed in his skin and his mind turned fuzzy. Hojo had been terrible had garnering anything remotely related to comfort.

Still, he had been forced to go and found himself standing sulkily outside the door to the doctor's office. He sighed heavily when his knock caused an answer from the other side and pushed open the door to step inside the professional office.

He kept perfectly still for a moment, only his eyes darting around the office. Frozen, he stood stiff before managing to get himself to relax enough to turn his head enough to regard the doctor sitting on the other side of the desk. "...I was told I had to come, Dr. Disraeli..."

This felt like it was about to go poorly.