"You've gotten me to speak more in an hour than I have over most of my time here," Kimbley said as he reached out and took hold of one of the pencils, tapping the sharpened end against the blank notebook. "That should count toward your 'therapy'."
He didn't really feel like drawing. Honestly, he wanted to leap over the desk and jam the pencil in the doctor's eye just to see what would happen, but in the interest of not being sedated and locked in solitary for the rest of the day (and probably the entire night) he resisted that urge. Instead he considered his options, counted the first ten lines on the page, and started to scrawl a transmutation circle.
Not a person, but not one that would work, either. It was the completed explosive circle, the same one tattooed on his palms when they were connected.
"So tell me, doctor," he said as he drew, eyes glancing up lazily, "what's the plan for the next time we meet? I'd hate to just repeat myself while you try to gain a new perspective on my insanity."
no subject
He didn't really feel like drawing. Honestly, he wanted to leap over the desk and jam the pencil in the doctor's eye just to see what would happen, but in the interest of not being sedated and locked in solitary for the rest of the day (and probably the entire night) he resisted that urge. Instead he considered his options, counted the first ten lines on the page, and started to scrawl a transmutation circle.
Not a person, but not one that would work, either. It was the completed explosive circle, the same one tattooed on his palms when they were connected.
"So tell me, doctor," he said as he drew, eyes glancing up lazily, "what's the plan for the next time we meet? I'd hate to just repeat myself while you try to gain a new perspective on my insanity."