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.