From the look on his face, Gant judged this man to be kinda like Manny. That is, a sourpuss. What a shame. And Gant hadn't even invited him to go swimming yet! But with those injuries, maybe it was better to hold on to that invitation for a later date.
Gant lathered up some more shampoo and attacked his hair again. These cheap products the institute provided for them likely wouldn't do much cleaning, but he really hated to look like a slimy mess when meeting new people. How could he make a great impression if he looked like a slob? They'd already taken his lovely orange suit and rosy spectacles away. If he was going to wear those god awful sweatsuits around all day, the least he could do is have his hair in order.
"Why, Chief of Police, of course!" he exclaimed, repeating the rinsing process. He certainly didn't look like a Fire Chief or some random Chief of Staff, in Gant's opinion. And what other kind of chiefs were worth knowing, anyhow? "Work for the L.A. police precinct. A pleasure to meet you, Dent old boy."
And yet another patient that lacked good nicknaming prospects. Probably the worst he'd heard yet. Just changing "Harvey" to "Harv" was boring. And you couldn't shorten or pretty up something as straightforward as "Dent." Had great potential as a cop name, though. "Got yourself an occupation there, Dent?"
If he really was a cop, Gant would be thoroughly amused. But he would rather meet someone with a career that involved cultivating vast influence. Or at least someone who held more political clout than a teenager, a musician or a dictator of some fake country.
no subject
Gant lathered up some more shampoo and attacked his hair again. These cheap products the institute provided for them likely wouldn't do much cleaning, but he really hated to look like a slimy mess when meeting new people. How could he make a great impression if he looked like a slob? They'd already taken his lovely orange suit and rosy spectacles away. If he was going to wear those god awful sweatsuits around all day, the least he could do is have his hair in order.
"Why, Chief of Police, of course!" he exclaimed, repeating the rinsing process. He certainly didn't look like a Fire Chief or some random Chief of Staff, in Gant's opinion. And what other kind of chiefs were worth knowing, anyhow? "Work for the L.A. police precinct. A pleasure to meet you, Dent old boy."
And yet another patient that lacked good nicknaming prospects. Probably the worst he'd heard yet. Just changing "Harvey" to "Harv" was boring. And you couldn't shorten or pretty up something as straightforward as "Dent." Had great potential as a cop name, though. "Got yourself an occupation there, Dent?"
If he really was a cop, Gant would be thoroughly amused. But he would rather meet someone with a career that involved cultivating vast influence. Or at least someone who held more political clout than a teenager, a musician or a dictator of some fake country.