Day 47: Doctor's Office 8 [Dr. Disraeli] [4th Shift]

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Something about making patients act accordingly was disappointing in the long run. Drugs were just too easily used. He would much rather have his patients follow an act, answering not because they had no option, but because they felt safe. Each specimen needed different treatment, he knew, however deception was far more satisfying.

His next patient was likely not to give him any more pleasure than the first two. With Mr. Malloy he never knew what to expect, but that was part of what created the doctor's interest in him. The other part was how much he resembled Cain. Jizabel could only imagine the results had he provided medicine to him rather than Mr. Cross. How much the boy would have resembled Cain then.

But the fantasies would have to wait for a later time. He could hear the nurse knocking at the door and knew it was time to begin.

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Artemis looked blankly up at Disraeli once the door opened. Things were not looking very positive for him, now that Badou had discovered Artemis' interaction with the mysterious E.S. (which Artemis supposed was a clever pseudonym for 'Eternal Sleep', but he didn't want to think too much on the subject). No doubt once Schuldig caught wind of this, Artemis would be lucky to escape the altercation with his tail between his legs. It might even lose him his friendship with the telepath.

Artemis wasn't thinking about that either, though. He could be classified as legally insane at this point--he was not aware of the consequences of his actions. He was not aware of himself in a broader sense, but aware of himself as he interacted with other people. He could not think, therefore did he really exist?

He smiled blithely at Disraeli, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Good afternoon, doctor."

"Here you are, Doctor Disraeli," his nurse said, trying very hard to sound cheerful for 'Sean's' sake, but not doing very well. She urged Artemis into the room, and the boy entered, automatically taking his usual seat. The nurse dropped her voice. "I don't understand it. He was doing so well, and suddenly he's become much worse."

She continued to explain in hushed tones how nothing she saw had affected Artemis, how he was polite, quiet, but had a tendency to stop as though listening intently to something. With a small pat on Artemis' shoulder, she left the room. He didn't respond to any of it, looking off at the lamb painting with mild interest.

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Jizabel could tell at once that his patient did not appear to be in a fighting mood. The expression was blank, and if the greeting was any indication, he would likely be dealing more with "Sean" than the more resistant personality. A disappointment, to say the least, however it could very well be a good time to further assess Mr. Malloy's ever changing attitudes within the office. He did seem to be in a different mood during each visit.

"Good morning, Sean," he provided the young man a smile before nodding to the nurse, "We all have our off days. You should not worry too much over it." With that reassurance he waved her towards the door. She had to leave before he could start anything, even if it was small talk. All he needed was to have the nurses gossiping over every last little thing they caught wind of, nice or otherwise.

Once she was finally gone and they were alone, Dr. Disraeli followed Sean's gaze towards the painting and turned to look himself. "Does it interest you?" he questioned casually, letting a faint grin onto his face.

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"Yes," Artemis said, his tone distant. It was nice in this room--it was quieter, the sound was muffled. He could still hear it, but it was significantly less grating. Relaxing, even though Artemis felt as though this was the last place he should be relaxed in. The last time he had been in this room, he'd hallucinated something terrible, hadn't he? And there was something in the drawer. Something that he should have been concerned about. Eyes in the drawer.

...eyes in the drawer. Eyes in the drawer.

He chuckled to himself. Oh yes, he was in immense danger, no wonder Badou had been concerned.

"It is a striking contrast to what is in your drawer, if I may say so," he said, smiling at the painting. He wasn't intending on telling anyone: it had been a week since he'd hallucinated he was Badou, and had discovered the eyes in Disraeli's drawer. He wondered if he would remember that by the time he left this office. Or even if he would leave the office. He'd been so blind not to see it, it was hysterical.

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Dr. Disraeli paused at the comment and slowly looked back to the boy with a confused look. His drawer, was it? Was the young man admitting to being responsible for the numerous incidents Jizabel had seen his desk suffer? He had suspected the boy at one time but had not thought he would admit. Perhaps his comment was not so much a confession as a challenge. Too bad Jizabel had been provided with an excellent cover just that morning.

"Ah it seems the nurses have loose tongues," the Doctor commented casually, shaking his head, "Really, they can be quite unprofessional to speak about other patients so freely."

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"Other patients?" Artemis asked. "My nurse didn't say anything to me about another patient. I was referring to the preserved eyeballs in your drawer. I discovered them about a week ago when searching for a way to combat you. So it goes without saying that I obviously broke into your office during the night and rifled through your personal things. I suppose it was terribly rude of me, but I don't suspect to remember that this particular incident occurred once I leave this office."

Artemis looked up at Disraeli and flashed him a pleasant smile. He was clearly going off the deep-end--it didn't occur to Artemis for a second that he might be able to get away with breaking and entering should he just agree with Disraeli that he'd overheard a nurse talking about preserved eyes.

"But yes, I agree with you. Should the nurses be talking about other patients with such reckless abandon, they should be relieved of their positions. Patient-doctor confidentiality is serious business."

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Not that was a confession. Quite a rash one in fact. Jizabel had a number of ways to cover any accusations made, however with Sean admitting so clearly to his act of breaking and entering, Jizabel saw no reason to deny anything. He had not intended to given his first cover.

"I do not see a reason why you would need to combat me, Sean," he said first, "Also, I'm fairly certain a nurse must have mentioned something to you, given your knowledge. Patients have no access to these rooms outside of sessions and are hardly permitted to roam the hallways at night."

There were ways to gain access to the room, however. Jizabel was not the only one who possessed a key, and he also knew Sean to be quite intelligent. Outsmarting a nurse was probably an easy feat for the young man, and perhaps another of his friends amongst the patients.

When Sean agreed with him on one count, Dr. Disraeli provided a nod and adjusted his spectacles on a reflex. "As it seems that confidentiality has been broken however, I see no point in denying it though. You are aware that I am a doctor, and my expertise goes beyond that of this office. I keep numerous documents here as this is my workspace, including specimens that help to further my research."

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"Oh of course," Artemis said, continuing on what was assuredly a ridiculously dangerous path. "However I seem to remember that you had a fascination with my eyes in the earlier days our our sessions--which led me to believe, at the time, that I was in considerable danger being isolated and in your presence.

"However you're making so many excuses and explanations as to how I've come across this information, I'm hardly feeling threatened at all. Though perhaps it is because you believe me to be insane, and frankly I would have to agree with you on that point. The noise I described at our last session is coming to its peak and I can barely stand to be conscious, let alone sane.

"So, while we are operating under the assumption that I am insane and am not going to get any better soon, could we proceed under the suggestion that I can roam the hallways at night and my name is not Sean but Artemis? I spent some time as Sean, and I decided that it would be dangerous for everyone involved if I remained as Sean--given that he doesn't understand a thing of what's going on here and nearly got me, himself, Chris, Haku, and Schuldig killed.

"Therefore, I'd warn you that while I'm quite possibly getting worse in terms of my mental health and am slowly losing a grip on reality, I won't stand for any suggestions that I am Sean. Anything else, though, carry on with. I could even take more of these suggestions that you keep eyes and outdated medical books in your office purely for research."

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Instead of arguing on Sean's level, Dr. Disraeli simply listened. Naturally he had to act on the assumption that every patient he saw was mentally unstable, and Sean was no exception. In fact he was proving now to be the most unstable of his whole roster, barring patients he had yet to see, that was. And now the young man intended that they conduct the session on that very notion: that he was insane, that patients had free roam at nighttime, and that he was in fact his illusionary self, Artemis.

If they were to move in that direction, then first things first.

"If not research, then what reason would I have to keep such things here? I am a professional doctor, Se-- Artemis," he caught himself an corrected, his subtle way of letting the boy know that he agreed to the name, "And my employer is well aware of my research. He has actually assigned my a number of patients with rarities of the eye. My research deals with finding if there are any connections between those rarities and degrees of insanity."

Adjusting his position in his chair, Dr. Disraeli put full attention to his patient, "But such matters aside, if you are happy with your ground rules, as it were, then shall we proceed? You've brought up a variety of subject matter for us to discuss."

With how haphazard a mood Sean seemed to be in, Jizabel hardly had the mind to tell him what they would be speaking on. He wanted Sean, or Artemis now to decide on their conversation, go where he would. Things would be much more interesting that way.

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"Yes, I am satisfied with them," Artemis said, seemingly happy just to be called by his actual name. He smiled an innocent, unaware smile and laid an elbow on the back of the couch to relax.

"I suspect that I overwhelmed you with the barrage of information I just gave you, though. Whichever you would like me to discuss first, I would be happy to talk about. I have no secrets left."

Not after posting publicly that he could hear things in his head. Not after telling a stranger that he had magical properties to him, and certainly not after telling Badou he was on the brink of assisted suicide. Honestly, the Institute could pull him back and forth between sanity, insanity, and a false-self--what did he have to live for anymore?

...besides his promise to Schuldig to take care of himself. And Haku. And Badou. He was leaving himself completely open to attack, to invasion... and yet he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop his mouth from carrying on. And every time he had a rational thought, it felt like it just slipped away: discarded as a waste of time and energy.

"Did you want to speak on Sean first?" Artemis asked, suddenly morose and interested in his nail scraping along the back of the couch. "Or how the noise is driving me insane?"

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He truly did have to consider just how Sean had fallen into such a state. Where was the boy who had been so calculating before? So close to Cain while still being so different? If anything had disappointed Jizabel more today, it was no longer forcing his earlier patients to speak.

"There has been worse in this office, Artemis. If I got overwhelmed by words alone, then this would be the last job I should have," he said. A therapist who acted on emotions or who could be riled by a patient was hardly suited for this profession. "And our topic of discussion can be Sean if you wish. I do find the mention of him nearly killing others of interest.