damned_institute | Day 46: Doctor's Office 3 (Dr. Kisugi) [Second Shift]

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Day 46: Doctor's Office 3 (Dr. Kisugi) [Second Shift]

The extra day off had been a bit of a surprise, explained to her apologetically by the Institute staff as a last-minute schedule change. Despite the fact that such a change would have little to no effect on her plans, if there was anything that Makiko disliked, it was something unexpected. That in and of itself had been sufficient to put her in an unpleasant mood by the time she'd arrived in her office that morning, but once she'd arrived she found there had been even more changes to her schedule, and nobody had seen fit to warn her of these ones before she'd laid eyes on it.

It seemed that some of her patients had been released - released, already, and without consulting her? These were her patients involved here, didn't the administration understand that? She'd not be able to make any progress whatsoever without any kind of set regimen, a fixed schedule in which to work. This was simply intolerable; even with what she'd been given she'd been anticipating this week's sessions, a second opportunity with certain of them (she could almost taste the bitter tang of fear on her tongue, even more bitter now with the knowledge that that person was now out of her reach) and now she had to start over with several patients.

The only consolation she could find was that the first one for today was a certain Eric Derringer. Even though he certainly wasn't her usual target, he was still at least somewhat entertaining to bait. If she didn't have to spend the entire session listening to someone whine about their paltry problems, then at least it wasn't a complete waste.

She pushed a random CD into the player and punched the "play" button with considerably more force than necessary, barely even noticing the music as it began. After a moment to school her features into her standard calm, impassive mask, Kisugi Makiko opened the man's file and began to read over her notes from the previous week, mentally filling in some of the gaps with her experience with him in town. He should be arriving any minute now, and she had no intention of him seeing her in anything other than complete control.

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After his last two run-ins with Doctor Kisugi, Dean could make a safe bet and say that this one was probably gonna be more of the same - a whole lot of awkwardness and wondering if she was gonna cut with the chase and start shedding her human-shaped skin and sprout some fangs. He probably would've felt a lot better if she'd just dropped all the pretense but no, she was still just as human looking as before when he was ushered into the office and everything was just like he'd seen it, all clean and impersonal and some quiet music playing as he stood by the door.

"You gonna hit me with another cocktail?" Dean asked warily. Sure, he didn't see an orderlies, but after Doyleton, Dean trusted Kisugi even less, if that was even possible. He didn't take a seat just yet.

The door opened and then closed again, and yet Makiko didn't even bother to look up from the file she was reading. To all appearances she was just completely fascinated by its contents, adding notes here and there in neat, careful script and not paying any heed at all to her newly-arrived patient. At least, not until he spoke up, hovering by the door as though distance would somehow protect him should she decide to do something.

"This is a doctor's office, not a bar, Mr. Derringer," she observed in a cool tone, flipping to the last page and adding a sentence at the end of a paragraph. "As much as I'm sure you'd prefer the latter."

"It'd be a lot more fun, for one thing," Dean said. What was she even writing? Was that his file? From here he couldn't tell, but at least he could rest assured that if she had it here, it meant Sam hadn't beat him to it. "Thought mixing drugs and booze was a no-no or something - thought they would've covered that in med school."

Dean finally moved away from the door, avoiding the chair in front of her desk as he roamed a little bit about the office. For something he suspected was a man eater, Kisugi was pretty damn anal about keeping the place spotless and if he was hoping to stumble upon a bloody arm stashed somewhere, he was disappointed.

Even though she was fairly certain that the man would be willing to say just about anything simply to get a rise out of her, the comment still made Makiko pause briefly and flip back through the file in search of his current medications. Given the way that the Institute seemed to delight in altering her patient roster and schedule without so much as a by-your-leave, she'd not be surprised if they decided to make their own adjustments to the prescriptions she'd ordered. But...no, everything was as it should be. As she'd left it last week. At least something still was, apart from her office.

And speaking of which, if the man didn't stop prowling about like that she was tempted to tranquilize him again. He'd certainly seemed to delight in disorder before, though fortunately he hadn't touched anything just yet. She finally glanced up from her papers and looked at him, her eyes narrowing just a fraction as she considered. "Was there anything in particular you wanted to start with this week? Anything you wanted to talk about?"

Dean had been about to start picking at one of the posters on the wall, glancing over his shoulder. Kisugi regarded him with that look, the one that looked deceptively bland except he wasn't gonna let himself get lulled into thinking she was just some pushover doctor 'cause she had "professional distance" down to a T.

"Sure, let's just start with the fact I think you getting me high like that was overkill. How 'bout that?" Dean leaned up against the wall, shoulder against the poster and resting his weight on it, arms crossed over his chest. "Anyone ever tell you you've got crap bedside manner, Doctor?"

Too bad she hadn't tripped up yet - she was one tough customer and he still didn't feel too much closer to knowing just what kinda monster he was dealing with here. But with the Christo test and his own tattoo, at least he could say he didn't think "demon" was on that list, so he could strike that off.

Edited 2009-12-17 08:49 (UTC)

"The use of chemical restraints is entirely allowable, when a medical professional deems them necessary. As I did." Makiko's expression didn't change in the slightest, though inwardly she sighed. So he wanted to complain about being sedated during the trip to town. Why, she couldn't imagine; she'd heard there was bus trouble, so by the time he'd returned to the Institute he'd likely have slept off the worst of the effects.

It wasn't terribly interesting, either, and she leaned back in her chair without looking away from him. "Is that really what you wanted to speak about, Mr. Derringer? I'm sure we could work on many other topics. For the sake of your well-being, naturally." She offered him a slight smile, a movement of muscle only that wasn't reflected in her eyes at all, and gestured toward the chair in front of her desk. "Your brother, perhaps. I'm sure that him being here as well has...re-opened a few old issues."

Dean just rolled his eyes at that. Yeah, whatever excuse she wanted to trot out? Wasn't gonna buy it.

"We're getting along better," Dean said, and for once he was gonna be glad he'd been hit with whatever Stepford mojo they'd thrown at them yesterday - finally meant he had some more details to collaborate with his cover here, instead of having to fish for it and hope the good doctor was gonna clue him in or just be a general bitch. "I think it's gonna work out with Matt."

After a pause, he stepped away from the wall - he could only hope he'd wrinkled her perfectly aligned poster, wasn't like he could turn around and make sure - and finally took a seat, and just like last time, he made sure to drag it closer, scraping the legs, and sprawl in it with a bit of a slouch. At least this time he wasn't flying as blind as he'd been before.

"You think so." It might have been considered a question, given the proper inflection, but Makiko's tone made it entirely clear that it wasn't. She watched him for a moment longer, then dropped her attention to the file in front of herself again. She absently flipped past a couple of pages, then pulled another one of the files on her desk closer and opened that one up.

"I'm impressed that he's forgiven you already," she observed, then fell silent for a moment as she apparently read over the text on the page in front of her. "It must be nice to have family." A pause, just barely long enough to be noticeable. "Isn't it?"

Okay, now he wasn't sure what she was getting at, 'cause they both knew Sam was here by now and Dean was pretty sure she'd been dangling some kinda threat against him last time they ran into each other, so this felt more like she was rehashing something he was already aware of...

Unless she had something new up her sleeve.

And y'know, maybe he was being paranoid. Still, he'd rather be paranoid and be wrong than get surprised down the line. Dean watched as she went through a few pages of the file, but from this angle, he couldn't tell if it was his - didn't see any pictures or nothing.

"He just said he'd think about it," Dean said. "I'd say that's a big step already. It's not like we're gonna suddenly turn into the Brady Bunch overnight, Doc."

"Oh, no. Of course not." That would be quite ridiculous to expect, naturally, her tone of voice said. But at the same time there was a tiny, ever so slightly malicious quirk at the corner of her mouth, as she continued to flip pages. Not even bothering to look up at her patient, of course; frankly, she was a little nauseated by the sight of him at the moment, and the illusory taste of his fears on the back of her tongue.

Why did that Waterhouse girl have to be transferred out? She wasn't exactly the best candidate, but she was certainly better than anyone else on her roster, as amusing as some of them were. Eric Derringer might be worth a snack to tide her over until she found someone worthwhile, but only if properly prepared, and she wasn't certain he was worth the effort.

Still, though, she had little else to do until the end of their session today, and so she pretended to be fascinated by the text she was looking at, even as her attention was truly focused on the man on the other side of her desk. "It's a pity, though," she added, almost as an idle comment, as she turned a page. "If only you had more time to spend with him."

Dean's jaw tightened slightly at that. Yeah, dangle that in front of him to rub it in his face, fine. He would've expected it if he knew she was a demon or something they'd at least hunted, but without more clues than that, he was kinda wandering in the dark though...except this time he had that "visit" by the freak with the white eyes, so maybe he had more info to run off of than going in cold.

"Alexander said I was gonna get transferred out in a year," Dean said, testing the waters. He was pretty sure it was just fancy talk for a one way ticket to Hell.

Dean wanted to say Kisugi was pulling the bitch act and grinding salt in the wounds with that particular impersonal touch of hers, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out if she was the hunt that got away or not. Or a copycat. Sometimes you thought you knew the job and then you'd find out that word traveled sometimes fast between the monsters going bump in the night out there and hunters weren't the only ones who liked to gossip. Dean could feel his teeth gritting behind the casual grin he flashed at her, like they were just talking about a get outta jail free card and not the awesome idea of getting torn apart by some invisible dogs.

"I'm planning to make the most of it, way I see it," Dean said with a shrug, eyes on Kisugi and watching her every move despite the slouch. "So I think I'm gonna skip the part where I pig out on ice cream and chick flicks, thanks."

Makiko closed the cover of the file again, pushing it over until it was sitting next to Eric's (and not just next to, but neatly aligned with, without her even really needing to think about it). "You can play it down all you like, Mr. Derringer, but we both know it's just a front." She'd no idea who "Alexander" was, but that hardly mattered. He could talk about being transferred or whatever euphemism he wished, but she could all but see how much more intensely he felt about how little time he had left.

"What do you think it's going to do to your relationship with your brother?" She leaned back in her chair, idly toying with the pen she still held in one hand. "If the two of you manage to get on friendly terms again, and then you...well." Her gaze shifted from him back to the files in front of herself and back, quickly enough that it might have been intended to be subtle, but just slow enough it could be noticed. "Maybe he should be told."

Dean didn't exactly run around slugging chicks, but man, he had to say there were definitely times when it looked tempting, especially when the doctor was running her mouth off like that.

The thing that stopped him was he didn't get what she could possibly get outta beating him to the punch or waving that in front of him in the first place. He'd get dicked over in a big way, but in the long run, it wasn't as effective as, say, her just shedding her human suit and showing her true colors. Didn't make sense to him. That's what he liked about the usual freaks they'd dealt with in the past - they left a lot of mess and crap, but in the end, there was usually a certain kind of twisted logic to what they did, the patterns they had with prey and hibernation cycles. Whatever she was, he wasn't gonna give her the satisfaction of folding like that in front of her.

If anything, Dean just leaned forward, planting his elbows on the desk as if he was real keen on talking.

"Actually, I was thinking 'bout that. Telling him, I mean," Dean said. He flicked a glance down at what he assumed was his file. Not even a page was out of place and sticking out from the folder. "Better I man up and tell him than sweeping it under the rug."

"Yes, that's a wonderful idea." Makiko smiled again, still the humorless imitation of a friendly gesture. "Tell him about what you did. What's going to happen in a year's time. I'm sure that he'll appreciate it, won't he? About how his dear brother is willingly abandoning him. Leaving him in such a dangerous world as this."

Why, exactly, Eric believed what he did, she didn't care enough to worry about. All she knew was that there were buttons to be pressed, and if doing so would produce a favorable result....

The hunger swelled within her, insistent and urgent as ever. He was so close, all she had to do was reach out, rend and tear and sate the driving need. The pen in her hand twitched slightly as she pushed that thought aside with a stubborn, not yet. Not enough. There was never, never enough, but not enough now, he wasn't ready.

She just continued, as though there hadn't been that brief pause. "And tell him about what will happen after," she suggested, voice a little too sweet to be authentic, especially for her. "What it will be like for you. I'm sure he'd love to hear about it."

Okay, y'know what? He was getting tired of dancing around this. Either she was gonna blab to Sam or she wasn't, and he was sick and tired of her acting like a smug bitch about it.

"What, you think I should keep my mouth shut instead of manning up?" Dean didn't look away from Ice Queen's face, looking her right in the eyes and you knew you were in deep when you looked and you didn't see anything looking back. At this job, Dean'd had to get pretty decent at reading people, getting a feel for what they might be thinking of doing before they did it (like before they ran into that creepy old house down the road that definitely couldn't be haunted, no sir) and right now he couldn't get much out of Kisugi aside from this vague feeling of danger, the kind that raised the hairs on the back of his neck and made him itch for a good sawed off. "I'm not gonna let him get surprised by this down the road."

Yeah, he'd been selfish and while he thought after all the crap they'd been through that he deserved friggen five minutes to himself, he plain didn't have the luxury. The other night with that acid trip and seeing Sam get torn up? Knowing in a few years it was gonna be him all bloody on that floor? He couldn't keep running. It was his last year on earth. Literally. Least he could do was not screw it up and surprise Sam in the final stretch with hours to spare and go "by the way, I'll signed a deal with a devil, hope it's cool with you".

Dean made sure to adjust his position, elbow sliding out a little as he shifted and shoving up against her nameplate on the desk.

Now he wished he'd been a lot less ninja about breaking into Kisugi's office that night. Should've keyed her office or something, if only to give him that warm tingly feeling about a job well done.

The soft sound of the nameplate shifting against the surface of the desk would have been quiet enough for most not to have even noticed it, but most were ordinary, simple humans. To Makiko, who was far more than that, and who was already on edge, it was like the proverbial nails on a chalkboard. For an instant, the barest fraction of an instant, she wanted more than anything else to lunge across the desk and show Eric just what real fear looked like, until his little male brain snapped beneath the terror just before she ripped it out.

The urge only lasted for half a heartbeat before she ruthlessly shoved it down once more, but her hand closed about the pen tightly enough that she could feel the tip driving into the skin of her palm. Her expression never changed a whit, though, and she merely watched her patient for a silent moment before speaking once more. "I'm only here to guide you, Mr. Derringer," she replied, her voice entirely even with a calmness she certainly didn't feel inside. "I'm not here to tell you exactly what course you should take."

Another brief pause, and she made a vague gesture with her free hand as she leaned back farther in her chair. "If you think Matthew needs to know, it's certainly something to consider. But it's still your decision to make. You can do...whatever the hell you want."

The bitch totally knew.

But that didn't change anything when he didn't know what she planned to do with the info or just what her endgame was.

"I don't get what you're playing at," Dean said, and it felt like he was repeating himself, but seriously. It'd be nice if they could cut the crap and just go for their throats like it was supposed to be. "You're sure you're even in the right institute? Don't strike me as the kind that belongs here hand-holding patients, y'know."

"I'm not an idiot, Mr. Derringer." Makiko transferred her pen to her left hand and set it onto the desk again, then folded her hands in her lap. She was careful to conceal her right palm, keeping the gouge the pen's tip had left behind from view. It'd be healed soon enough, but she'd no desire to reveal that fact to anyone. "And despite certain appearances, neither are you."

She shook her head slightly, though her eyes never left his, never changed expression the tiniest bit. "You can pretend to ignorance all you want, and try to change the subject to make yourself feel better. But nothing will change what's going to happen to you in the end. Nothing will reduce the suffering that you're ever so willingly letting yourself in for."

Was it him, or was she finally getting more blunt about it? It wasn't exactly saying he was gonna burn in Hell for all eternity, but it was a lot more to his face than the dance around they'd had earlier.

Dean's voice was quiet. "I'm not sorry I did what I had to back there. It'll be worth it, so I don't see a point wishing I could take it back."

He just wished he'd had more time. On some level, Dean guessed a year was better than nothing...but compared to the ten the other bargainers got with the Crossroads Bitch, it wasn't great. A year could fly by fast and even now, sitting half-slouched against Kisugi's desk, he was aware in the back of his head at how many minutes, hours, he'd wasted here. Less than a year, technically. Time like that could sneak up on a guy and it added up in a big way. And then there was Hell itself. Dean knew it was gonna suck but how bad? Getting the crap beat outta him by that Meg chick had been one thing but her helpful description of the place probably hadn't done it justice. He could always get something from Sam, but somehow he suspected that whatever thousands of years of lore they had on the place wasn't gonna prep him for it either.

Dean was scared shitless about telling Sam the truth, but with that looming over his head, seriously considering the fact that he was gonna end up dog food and in Hell come this same time next year was coming in a real close second.

Had she been back at the prefectural hospital where she'd previously worked, Makiko would have had far more liberty to do as she wished. The administration there had been firmly under her control, and if any of the nurses had noticed anything odd or unusual about her, it would have been a simple matter to deal with. Here, however, she was far too new, only beginning to work on establishing herself, and had to be careful what she did, lest she call unwanted attention upon herself.

Because of this, the faint sound of voices outside in the hallway, of footsteps approaching her doorway, were both excellent reasons for her to not press the situation. To not keep prodding at that particular sore point until the man's fear spiked, ready to provide what little sustenance he was capable of. The awareness of danger was just enough to keep her logical side in control over the hunger, but only just; outwardly her control wavered for a moment as there was a flicker of something in her eye undefinable other than 'malicious'. She remained utterly still, though with the poised stillness of a predator waiting for the prey to break cover.

"Tell me again how worth it is once your time is up," she finally observed, her attention shifting toward the door as the footsteps outside halted there: the nurse arriving to fetch her charge, more than likely. She paused, then smiled, not quite as emotionless as before. "If you can."

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Day 46: Doctor's Office 3 (Dr. Kisugi) [Second Shift]

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