This story was inspired by something I noticed about a particular character. Now, let me get this out of the way. I've never actually played NMH, but I've watched a few playthroughs enough times to notice a small detail about one of the boss fights and wondered if there was something to it. Consider this both practice at getting into someone's head and working out a potential backstory.
The main office of Dr. Timothy Tucker sat in time rather peacefully, an oddity for a town as "fucked up," as one of his colleagues so eloquently articulated, as Santa Destroy. For a few minutes, only the dull droning of a small desk clock permeated the silence. The psychologist in question sat in the only chair in the room, a red notepad in one hand and a red pen in the other. A rather luxurious, leather piece that would make anyone who sat in it know true comfort and bliss. At least, until said psychologist kicked you out and onto the cheap sofa that was reserved for his clients.
Speaking of which, his latest client lay on said sofa, creating the stereotypical ambiance one would usually see in a movie. The client, however, was probably one he could've done without.
A young girl, seemingly in her early twenties, stared at the ceiling from the cushions of the sofa. When he first saw her, he mentally questioned her attire. After all, you never verbally question the trivial things with someone who was sent to you via the legal system. What the hell was she doing here, anyway? Shouldn't she be rotting behind bars until her impending execution if the file he'd been given about her was anywhere near accurate?
Nope. Compared to questions like that, the fact that she wore a pink frilled, thigh-length dress with a large bow in the back, thigh-length socks, brown gloves (what the hell?) and pink pumps to a psychiatric evaluation was pretty well down there on the priority ladder.
All of that was lost on the girl, though, as her piercing grey eyes continued to burn a figurative hole in the ceiling above her. As she lie there, only a single thought crossed through her mind.
Fuck. I need a beer.