damned_institute | Dayshift 32: Doctor's Office 8 [Dr. Disraeli]

So there would be two patients passing through this door this morning? Nothing Dr. Disraeli couldn't handle, but it did seem a bit odd for such an establishment to require double booking. Were they short on staff, or perhaps Dr. Landel just wanted to see how he, most likely they, would cope. Jizabel certainly would have done the same had he held the position of power here. Making underlings earn their pay was only half the fun. Unfortunately, being one of those underlings (for now) left no room for Dr. Disraeli to argue. He'd just have to deal with Misters Federline and Chen both before being allowed his break – an adult and a teenager should not be too difficult.

Though both their files had made mentions of fire and ~~brimstone~~ explosions.

Speaking of, it looked as though something had tried to explode in his left hand drawer. Closer inspection proved that it had instead been forced open from the outside. Far better than an explosive mishap resulting from an incorrectly labeled toxin he may have tossed in there before leaving. He knew he would not have been that careless.

But who had forced the drawer open? A colleague perhaps? Oh, but that would have been a bold move after only the first day. Of course, having seeing Professor Washu's lunchtime outburst, he wasn’t beyond speculating as to certain things. That the drawer had been pushed back was another point of consideration. Someone didn't want to get in trouble and had tried to hide their snooping. A spiteful co-worker would have preferred to decimate the office as a far clearer statement of contempt. Or that was at the very least how messages were conveyed in Delilah. No blood on the floor in this instance either. Pity.

He'd have to sort out a culprit later; the knock on the door indicated it was time to begin. Again calling for entrance - nothing in either patients' files had warranted a greeting at the door - he readied himself for another busy day.

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He'd expected the surprise, so he was more than willing to explain the reason behind his strange and sudden question. "I ask because I'm curious. If you speak as you have with me towards any of the staff or those friends you apparently do not have, you'll end up sedated or worse." And that would only hinder any progress. Jizabl may not have particularly cared for how his patients did for themselves, but he needed them to at least show some progress. That would reflect on him in this place, and he needed to keep up the charade, after all.

"It doesn't matter if it makes sense or not really, but drawing can be a good outlet for your more... let's say creative ideas. Especially when you can't voice them outside of this office without getting into a good deal of trouble." Dr. Disraeli reached down towards a lower drawer and pulled a binder of notebook paper out that had yet to be used. "More fun making humans explode on paper, than simply in your mind, am I right?" He set the pad atop his desk. It would be interesting if Mr. Federline actually agreed to something most adults would think stupid or otherwise childish.

... was this guy serious?

The first time Kimbley had gone to therapy, when he was around 12, they'd handed him a pad of paper and asked him to draw what he thought of himself, his friends, his family, the works. He'd thought it was stupid then and outright refused to comply, even when they nearly begged. After several minutes of nonstop nagging, he (younger and rather more easily pissed off) had snatched up all the red pencils they offered and scrawled in stick figures the horrible atrocities he wanted to inflict on them. Compared to what he did as an adult, they weren't really that bad, but coming from a 12-or-so-year-old it had looked terrible.

And now here he was, 20-some years later, with the same thing presented to him.

"I'd say it's more fun in the mind than on paper, since I'm not a very good artist and I like being able to 'see' their bodies being strewn across the walls." Besides, he'd be tempted to draw a few alchemic circles and see what he could get to transmute in this room, and that would only end badly. "If I spoke like that to the staff I'd be sedated, yes, but I'm not stupid. And the other people here are more determined to get out than to turn in their fellow inmates. If I start to disturb them, they move." He shrugged. "I haven't been sedated yet, and I've shared these opinions several times."

... admittedly, mostly with like-minded people, but they were still friends he apparently didn't have.

"Be fair now," he requested, since apparently Mr. Federline felt the need to be slightly defensive against the offer, "I have to act like a therapist at least once during this session. Be glad I'm not asking you to say, lay back and tell me how much you weren't loved as a child." He could only continue to smile now. This session certainly was proving more amusing than most. "It is only an offer, in any case. What you do outside of here is your call, naturally."

"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."

Jizabel hummed approvingly when Mr. Federline took up the notebook regardless. There was something he wished to get out in something other than words, Jizabel could tell. The human mind just could not hold the span on his creativity, no matter how great the mental depiction of human splatter on the walls would be. Of course with Jizabel present, there was also one more outlet Mr. Federline could choose, and that though alone had Jizabel's hand held close to his pocket.

Really, would this be the first patient to attack him? How welcome it would be though. A patient like this had practically earned himself a good lashing out to make good on his thoughts of blood and gore. Just so long as he didn't mar his face. Jizabel had to be careful of that, lest he be scolded.

"You are right. Therapy can be defined many ways," he could not see very well what Mr. Federline drew out, but could tell that he was at least drawing. Good. "I'm sure I can think of something more entertaining by next week. How about some finger paints?" he laughed once more, "not quite the right color, but if you're so intent on seeing something blood-like... and my office does need some color, as you may be able to see." Oh this was far too amusing. So sad that it needed to end.

"Would you mind finishing here? Apparently I'm double-booked today."

Kimbley waited until the doctor had completely finished speaking - had asked him to leave - before putting the finishing touches on the transmutation circle and setting the pencil down. He leaned back in the chair again, eyes still locked on the doctor, and let his smile grow.

"That might earn you some ire, doctor. I'd hate to think you were patronizing me." His voice was light, but the threat hung silent in the air. "I'll look forward to next time, regardless."

He stood and turned his back on the doctor. Normally, he never would have done something so stupid, but it was unlikely that he would be attacked - not here or now, when the doctor was a professional and there was a nurse likely less than ten feet outside the door. His fingers were on the doorknob when it opened from the outside, the nurse glancing at her watch before catching sight of the patient in the doorway.

"Oh, Kevin, you're ready to go?" He didn't respond, but she smiled anyway and stepped back to let him out. "I'll go get your next patient, Dr. Disraeli."

Kimbley didn't look back once the door shut. He had plans for the rest of the day.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he assured, though his constant smile might have betrayed that he was. Just a little. Patronizing the insane could be such a fun sport.

He kept his seat as the other rose, noting the moment when Mr. Federline's back was turned. How very unwise? And yet Jizabel allowed him to go regardless. There was no merit in subduing this one; he'd not lied at all during their session, which meant he very well was thought insane by not just the staff. And besides that, he no doubt thought Dr. Disraeli merely a patronizing bastard merely playing pretend. No harm letting him go un-drugged.

Not that he could have managed a drugging with whatever rats had been in his office.

"Until next time then," he waved lightly, then breathed a bit of a sigh in preparation for his next. Amusing or not, Mr. Federline's session had taken a bit of energy to manage. Hopefully the teenager soon to come wouldn't be too much hassle.

Dayshift 32: Doctor's Office 8 [Dr. Disraeli]

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