Day 47: Doctor's Office 5 (Dr. Venkman) [Fourth Shift]

[ghostbusting]

The machine was well and fully tucked (more like tossed) into his drawer by the time fourth shift rolled around, having been completely useless for his first patient and too mean for the second. He only had one patient to worry about for fourth shift anyway, so there wasn't really a need to speed the session along, much as he maybe would have liked to. Spending a whole shift with someone who had emotional suppression issues and thought that he was a space alien wasn't exactly what Venkman called a day at the beach.

Oh well, he thought. Maybe it won't be so bad. I could ask him what spring is really like on Jupiter and Mars.

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[dual-worlds.livejournal.com]

Spock had not expected a nurse to inform him that he was scheduled for a "therapy" session today. There had certainly been references to "specially assigned appointments" over the intercom, of course, but he had not been aware of his own involvement until he had already exited the cafeteria. Given what he knew of the staff thus far, Spock was immediately suspicious of their true motives behind this particular arrangement. Granted, the daytime staff appeared to at least attempt to maintain an air of normalcy, but he knew it would be unwise to accept their "treatments" at face value.

Regardless, it appeared that, like many aspects of the institute, he had very little choice in the matter. Spock allowed the nurse to escort him to his designated doctor -- "Dr. Venkman", as the nurse had called him. As they entered the hallway that contained his office, he recalled the night he had investigated this area with Venom and Alkaid in an attempt to locate medical supplies. They had been unsuccessful, but the experience had allowed him to at least learn more about their prison. Perhaps it would be best to consider this particular visit as an opportunity to find more potentially useful information.

With that in mind, he quietly entered the office to which his nurse had directed him. Spock took a brief moment to scan his surroundings -- for all intents and purposes, it did not look anymore remarkable than the room he had visited with Alkaid and Venom, even if this one did not appear nearly as neat or impersonal. The key difference at the moment, however, was the fact this Dr. Venkman was apparently sitting at the desk in front of him.

Hands clasped behind his back, Spock stopped beside the simple chair that was apparently reserved for himself, though he did not immediately take a seat. Instead, he regarded the doctor with an almost clinical expression as he studied him.

"I was informed I have been assigned to you," he said, "though I do not believe that such therapy sessions are necessary."

[ghostbusting]

Venkman had seen some stiffs before, but suddenly none of them compared. Just from looking at him, he could tell that this guy was probably the stiffiest stiff to ever stiff his way through stiff school. Even that one guy Dana had been with at her orchestra rehearsal seemed kind of noodly and vibrant in comparison. The fabulous grey ensemble didn't help that impression much, either.

He was sure he could find a way to make this fun.

"You have heard correctly, Mr. Penn," Venkman said in the most clinical, official tone he could muster, straightening up against the back in his seat. "And it is my job to determine if these sessions are, in fact, necessary. You may be right - someone might have made a gross mistake in sending you here. It may be difficult to find where the truth lies; psychology can be a very subjective field at times. I feel I am up to the task, though. Somehow, I can sense that if we cooperate with each other, we can eventually determine with certainty whether a man who believes himself to be a hyper-intelligent, green-blooded alien from beyond the stars can really, truly be considered, as the great psychiatrist Johnny Wayne once put it, 'crazy in the coconut.'"

Venkman tilted his head and raised an eyebrow in a "seriously?" kind of way. "C'mon, sit down already. You're wearing grey happy face pajamas, not a military uniform. You don't have to stand up so straight," he said in his normal tone, gesturing to the seat beside Aidan.

[dual-worlds.livejournal.com]

He referred to him by the same name the nurses used, and made no effort to hide his skepticism regarding his background. This was not surprising, though it indicated that there would be little level of compromise from Dr. Venkman's end in that matter. There was no doubt that, to a Human from the early 21st century, his story would be completely unbelievable without any solid proof. Consequently, there was little use in disagreeing with him, although if he believed he was going to lie about or outright deny his true identity, then he was mistaken.

Spock was certain he had never heard the name "Johnny Wayne", least of all in connection to the study of psychiatry, but at the moment that was the least of his concerns.

Regardless, refusing to cooperate with this man would probably do more harm than good. Not only was it unwise to provoke their captors, but Spock did not wish to draw anymore attention to himself than absolutely necessary. Some of the staff obviously had no qualms with inflicting torture on their patients if it suited them, and as first officer of the Enterprise, it was his duty to act in the best interests of the captain and the crew. Furthermore, his "therapy" with Venkman would possibly serve as an opportunity to learn more information about the institute.

"You will find that I often stand in this way, Dr. Venkman," Spock informed him before finally sitting down. "What I am wearing has little bearing on how I carry myself." That was not going to change simply because he was being held prisoner in a facility that claimed to be a mental institution.

[ghostbusting]

[Sorry for the wait! Slow posting continued for longer than expected due to unforeseen computer migration slowness. D:]

"So if someone were to, say, wrestle you into a tutu and a pretty, pretty princess tiara, you'd stand exactly the same way and give me the exact same monotone?" Venkman asked, barely able to control an amused smirk. God he hoped the answer was "yes." That gave him all kinds of evil ideas for "childhood regression therapies" they could try out next week.

He shook his head and tapped his pen on the file in front of him. "Anyway, not the point. The point, Penny, is that you have got some big, neon flashing issues, and we're here to talk them out." Or at least they were here to make it look like they were talking them out. For all Venkman cared, Aidan could recite all the digits of pi for the remainder of the session, and he'd be able to say that he'd done his job. "How 'bout we start simple. Why don't you tell me who you think you are so we can get on the same page?" This ought to be fun.

[dual-worlds.livejournal.com]

Spock raised an eyebrow at the overly specific scenario that Venkman presented to him. First of all, it was highly doubtful that anyone would be able to successfully convince him to dress in such a way. If, however, they were able to force him to do so, then he would not allow it to hinder the way he normally stood or spoke. To do anything different would be unprofessional, although the truth remained that, given the choice, he would certainly be opposed to wearing such an outfit.

"'Wrestling' me to engage in such an activity would be nothing short of undignified, Doctor," Spock calmly replied after a moment. "I would certainly hope no one would be foolish enough to make such an attempt."

Unfortunately, the idea of discussing his personal "issues" was not any more appealing. Spock had no problems he wished to delve into, least of all with Dr. Venkman. As far as who he "thought" he was, he was fairly certain the man already had a solid idea. The staff here was resourceful -- after all, the nurse had known he was a vegetarian. There was no doubt the records they kept here were rather detailed.

Perhaps it would be worth returning here in the future in order to read them over himself.

"While I could certainly explain to you who I am," Spock said in a way that gave a subtle emphasis to the fact he didn't use the word think, "I am under the impression that you would not believe me."

[ghostbusting]

"Oh god. My dignity. Don't know what I'd do without that," said the man who had run around New York City wearing a jumpsuit and about a half-ton of weird-looking, unlicensed nuclear equipment for a good several months.

Ah well. Watching Penny here being his same stiff self in a skirt would probably only be fun for about five minutes anyway. Then he would probably just get annoying again, thought Venkman. Had Landel deliberately sent him all the most humorless patients in the building? He wouldn't be surprised. He hadn't exactly been the most employable candidate for a psychiatrist's job, what with being kicked out of his position at the university and being sued six ways from Sunday for massive property damage (ungrateful New Yorkers). Maybe this was just Landel's way of keeping a metaphorical chew toy around the office that could also maybe do some work. Venkman maybe would have resented this idea more if they hadn't been paying him so damn well.

He listened to Aidan finish. "Humor me?" he asked with a shrug. "Maybe you've got some amazing anecdotal evidence for your story that I hadn't considered before. Hell, you could be the one to finally convince someone in this place that you're all not really crazy. That you really are from the future, and that you really are all being kept here and terrorized at night be all manner of spooks and monsters. You never know until you try." He paused for a moment, then leaned back a little further in his chair and folded his arms behind his head lazily. "At the very least, it'd save me from having to read your file again. Not exactly light reading, that stuff."