He'd always considered Sunday the day of rest, but sometimes duty called, and sometimes it called on his weekend. Layton sighed as he flipped through the file of the patient he would be meeting that morning. Like many of the other men and women here, hers was a story of a life gone awry, although Maria's story seemed especially tragic given her promising beginnings.

Well, hopefully he could eventually restore some of that promise, even as he made note of the nurses' comments about a "reticent and uncooperative attitude". He couldn't expect her to miraculously change for him, but perhaps a little optimism wouldn't hurt. Closing the file with a flick of his hand, Layton pushed it to the side before reaching down to pull out his book of crossword puzzles. He was averaging about one per day during his breaks; they really were excellent ways to pass the time, although the themes were all starting to blur together...perhaps it was time to invest in a new one.

Layton yawned as he sat down in his office chair again after his lunch break. Even though he'd only seen one patient so far, that one session alone had certainly been tiring; he'd been in desperate need of some coffee shortly after it ended. Thankfully, the staff lounge had some, and he'd been able to steal a cup for himself as a post-lunch reward.

He took a sip and hummed contentedly as he reviewed his next patient's file. This one's background piqued his archeologist self in particular, although Japanese folklore had never been an area in which he'd heavily concerned himself. His interested trended more toward the Mideast than the East proper, but really, perhaps now was the time to expand his horizons a bit, as far out as they already were.

There was also this feeling he was starting to get, the feeling that things were being hidden from him, and that he'd missed something very, very important. He hadn't been able to pin a finger on it yet, but he was starting to wonder...there were too many similarities, too many things that correlated. Every session, despite the presence of a different personality, had left him wondering. Was he asking the right questions? They weren't the appropriate ones, but the right ones: there was a clear distinction. Would it be too forward? It was only his second day, after all. Far too early to start having suspicions.

He dismissed that train of thought with a sigh. Things would fall into place soon enough. Puzzles worked like that.

Alright, his second day on the job. Hopefully, it would go much smoother than the first, although he knew that psychology could be an unpredictable field. Some patients had to be more volatile, some more sedate. It was nothing like archaeology, where the things he worked with were rather ancient (the people included...) as well as expired. Results could be strange or bizarre, yes, but at least they had some modicum of probability. People, on the other hand, were about as unpredictable as you could get.

Layton walked into his office with a sigh, setting aside the morning paper as well as a cup of coffee he'd snagged from the lounge before flipping open the file already sitting on top of his desk. He frowned lightly as he read through the specifics of his first patient of the day, all the while walking around his desk slowly and then finally plopping down in his chair.

...

These people were capable of some truly elaborate, fascinating fantasies. To be honest, they were almost sort of enthralling if he conveniently forgot the part where they persuaded their creators to detach completely from reality.

Layton was feeling a little more confident now that he had gotten through an entire session on his own. He wasn't sure how he'd performed, but they had managed to stay on task the entire time, so that was a small victory. Improvement was gradual, and he needed to remind himself of that and take pride in the little things where he could.

He perused his next patient's file while he waited for him to show up, a Mr. Cody Wheeler, likewise suffering from a dissociative disorder. (This place seemed to be very specialized in the sorts of patients they accepted.) He had been here for a little longer than Mr. Sullivan, but not nearly long enough to have seen a therapist before, apparently. Goodness, this place was understaffed, enough so that they were willing to hire an archaeologist with nothing better to do in his spare time. The circumstances were still highly curious, since one would have thought that there would be plenty of potential therapists to hire; psychology always seemed to be a popular field of study back at the university.

Well, he'd never said that life couldn't be just as strange as fiction.

Having familiarized himself with a few relevant details regarding the man's background, Layton closed the file carefully and checked the time. He still had a few minutes. It really wouldn't hurt...with a guilty smile, he opened one of the bottom desk drawers and pulled out one of the many crossword puzzle books sitting in there, the kind that one might buy from a gas station convenience store. He had just started one the other night, and it was almost finished. Just a few more words to fill in--ah! There it was. 68 Across: Fix, in a way, as a lawn. 6 letters...

Ah, his first true day on the job. There had been quite the delay between the notice of his hiring and the date upon which he was meant to start (and it had been pushed back several times too...how strange), but he'd been able to spend it relatively productively, making sure all of his things arrived safely from London and getting a head start on settling in.

Of course, that hardly meant that he was feeling totally at ease right now. It still felt strange to think, that he, an archaeology professor by trade, was actually going to try his hand at professional therapy, but anything really was possible, he supposed. And he had always had an interest in psychology, as he did in seemingly everything else in the world.

Layton sighed as he settled back in his chair, pausing to adjust the position of the pen sitting on his desk. It was trivial, really, but for some reason, he felt like it had to be aligned just right. A gentleman always made the best first impression he could, after all. So he should really fix that...there. Just a little nudge with the side of his finger, and it was in its proper place. Or maybe it was out of sorts? If he looked at it from a certain angle, it did seem to be a tad crooked...

"Goodness, you are nervous," he muttered under his breath as he finally forced himself to look away from the pen and settle his hands, fingers firmly laced, on the top of the file in front of him. Take a deep breath, Hershel. A gentleman should always face challenges with dignity and grace.