"OK, folks, who would like to start today's group?" the therapist asked.
They all looked at each other. Parker stared at the floor, as she often did. Alec and Eliot were both extra fidgety today. The therapist made a note to suggest a medication change for them. Sophie was in one of her Grande Dame moods and was sitting stiffly upright and seemed to be peering down her nose at the others.
"Sophie," the therapist said, "Why don't you go first? What's new with you today?"
Sophie seemed to pull herself even more upright in her chair. "Well, I'm really not sure how well this job is going to work," she said. "I don't know that Eliot can convince people he's a shoe salesman, of all things." Today she was speaking with the British accent, the therapist noted.
"No, no, no," Alec protested. "Not a shoe salesman! The VP for sales for Spenciore Footwear Designs!" Alec huffed. "Everyone knows Italian leather makes the best shoes."
"Still, he's not even able to do an Italian accent, how is THAT going to convince people?" Sophie protested.
"Hello! American branch!" Alec said, looking irritated.
"Ok, folks, let's calm down," said the therapist soothingly. "Eliot, would you like to talk about something today?"
Eliot's face scrunched up in frustration. "Why do you people always think I can't do these things? I'm more than just a guy who can hit. How long has it been since I hit anyone, anyway?"
"Now, Eliot," replied the therapist, "You were in an isolation room for two weeks after hitting the overnight security guard."
"He was coming on to Parker!" Eliot said with heat, his fists balling up, but he was as surprised as the others when a small giggle slipped out from another person.
"Parker?" asked the therapist.
"Didn't need the help." Parker's voice was almost too quiet to hear. "Bet he had a fun ride home. Ha!"
The therapist made a note to double check Parker's room. She was quite adept at somehow getting past the locks and slipping onto the grounds.
Sophie sighed heavily. "We really need to get Nate on board for this, but when I tried talking to him he kept changing the subject." She frowned. "I'm afraid he might be drinking again." The others silently nodded.
The therapist tried not to sigh - not this again. "Folks, none of you are assigned to Nathan Ford, how are you getting to talk to him?" The quiet echoed for a few minutes, then the therapist brought up a new subject.
xxxxxx
Later, the therapist went to find Dr Ford, finding him in his office. "Dr Ford," the therapist asked, "Would you have a few minutes for a consult? I need some advice about my 3pm therapy group. They seem rather entranced by you."
"No problem," said the other man, "I have some time now, Dr Sterling. Have a seat and tell me what's going on."