"Dudes, let's go play catch."
Mark rolled his eyes as he walked out of his room. Passing through the wide hallway, he rounded the corner and entered the sun-filled expanse of the condominium.
"Can you yell any louder?" Mark said while pointing at Alfred.
Alfred sat on the couch in front of the television. He crossed his arms. "It's not my fault Artie is boring." He said, dragging out the last word.
Arthur jolted up from behind the kitchen counter and heaved a scone at Alfred's head. The rock solid projectile barreled through the air and found its target.
Alfred clutched his head. "Take a joke, Artie. Jesus."
"Don't insult your babysitter, idiot." Arthur said.
"I'm not. Just stop hitting me." Alfred said.
Mark motioned Arthur to come towards him with his hands. Arthur shook his head. Mark rolled his eyes, and he moved as quick as boiling water towards Arthur.
"Aren't you suppose to calm him down?" Mark asked quietly.
"Please. America hardly listened to me when he was a colony."
"Can you use normal human terminology and call him a kid?" He asked.
Arthur sighed while stirring a pot of boiling water. "Can't you watch over him? All you've done is play video games all day."
Mark slammed his hand down on the counter. "It's flight simulator. It's not a video game."
"Just take care of him. You have that doctors appointment, right? Take him there."
"He'll be stuck in the waiting room." Mark said.
"Then get him ice cream." Arthur said, staring into the pot.
Mark rolled his eyes and threw his hands up. "Alright. I'll take him. Maybe I can entertain him with the kids toys in the place."
Line break
The office building was right across the street from the River. The sunny afternoon floated by like the chirping robins floating past with the tickling wind. A few shrubs lined the edge between the poking weeds and the cracks of the cement sidewalk. _
"I don't wanna go to the doctors. I wanna play football. You promised football." Alfred said in a whining voice, bounding next to Mark as they approached the spinning doors.
"I said we'd see football. And the Bears game doesn't start until 4:30. You're lucky that scalper was generous." Mark said as he pushed Alfred through the doors. Alfred yelped, tripping over the edge before falling onto the white marble on the ground. Mark walked past him, making Alfred pull himself up towards the elevator.
"Dude, why'd you make us walk towards Soldier Field, anyway? It was like a five minute drive." Alfred asked.
"I don't drive. Didn't I say that when we first started walking?"
"I can't remember that far back." Alfred said with a grimace.
The elevator doors opened. Mark and Alfred sauntered inside the small box, and disappeared behind the golden doors.
Line break
"I guess we will start out with how you've been."
Mark sat on a plush leather chair in front of a large window, letting in the sound of the whistling breeze from the altitude they were located. Facing him was an ornate office with many decorations including a large mirror by the door, the mahogany desk towards the side of the office, and a few small pictures of smiling children and the man in front of him. He wore a red and white striped t-shirt with khaki shorts. His balding black hair stuck up over his forehead while his buck teeth poked out like the metal globe shining in the lamplight on his desk.
"I have a new roommate."
"A new roommate? You had an old one?" The man said in a deep voice.
"Of course not."
"Then what happened? Did it have to do with rent?" The man said while he set down a clipboard on the glass table in front of him.
Mark sighed. "Okay, so...this black guy walked in one day and gave me a large box. I tried to open it up, and bam. Out came some man around my age looking like a total punk. Literally. Like a punk rocker from the 80's. Turns out he's a robot that's based off of this Japanese cartoon, and he is a variation of the national personification Britain. The next day, some Spanish fan girl came in and took us to a club. Then, I met some more robots. In fact, ones in the waiting room now."
"Okay Mark. What's the real reason?"
"Rents too high."
The man folded his hands in his lap. "What's he like. Are you getting along."
"I'm adjusting. I wasn't kidding when I said he's British...and punk."
"Is his music loud?"
"I'm surprised the ambulance hasn't been called to the building. The old people freak out, Greg." Mark said as he crossed his legs.
Greg straightened up in the chair. "I would imagine. Just remember that he's probably as new to this as you are."
"As far as I'm concerned, my only job is to make sure he doesn't hang himself. And vice versa."
"Speaking of which, I have to ask you if you've had any suicidal or homocidal thoughts. Any hallucinations, ecetera. Anything to report?"
Mark stared at the man. His gaze shifted to the mug on the table. The steam rising from the mug wafted the scent of mocha towards him. He shuddered at the heavy smell crashing into him. "That's what I wanted to talk about."
Greg picked up his clipboard and purple pen.
Mark zapped his gaze up at Greg. "As you know, the flight test is in six weeks."
"Mark, we talked about this months ago." Greg said.
"I lied to you. I'm still taking classes."
The silence in the room would make a bat stop and think about its surroundings. Greg tapped his pen on the board.
"You know if you're a danger to others, I have to contact authorities."
"Relax, I won't fly again until the test," Mark said.
"I think you're lying. What about your medication? Haven't you taken that?" Greg said.
"I have, but I've cut back day by day."
Greg stammered. "You can't just decide how many of your mess you take. I have to report this to Doctor Sterling."
"Greg, please. Just..." Mark looked out the window behind him. Clearly in thought, Mark took a deep breath and sighed. "How about you give me two weeks. I'm not gonna fly, but I will make the decision. If I still feel like flying in two weeks, then go ahead and throw be in some mental hospital."
"Even then, I have to report it to Doctor Sterling."
"I only started cutting back two days ago. I can get back on the routine fine."
"I can't trust you with that." Greg said.
"Everything I have told you since I came in here was true. Can we solve this without having all this medical stuff involved."
Greg looked at Mark. He took a quick huff, and he dropped his clipboard onto the table, making a rattle on the glass. He paused for a few more seconds, examining the light mocha haired man digging his fingernails into the armrests.
"I won't tell her," Greg said, pointing at Mark. "If I hear one thing out of place from now until two weeks from today, I will remove you from causing people harm."
"I thought you were a humanistic psych guy. Aren't you supposed to say 'causing myself harm'?"
"Anything else to say?"
Mark shook his head. He shot to his feet and strolled to the door. Suddenly, he heard a quick rumbling dissipating away from the door on the other side. He stopped for a second, and he leaned towards the door. Mark hummed to himself in his pause, and flung the door open. He moseyed out of the office, leaving the nonplussed counselor in his destructive midst.
The door flew open as Alfred sprung into the home. He trounced over the hardwood floor, leaving a few grass stains imprinted in it. He skidded to a halt next to Arthur, who gasped and dropped a plate of grey scones.
"Dummy, why'd you burst in like tha-."
"That guy your living with is insane."
Silvia and Francis walked into the kitchen. They were sitting on the couch in front of the television, allowed into the condo to keep Arthur company.
"Tell us something we don't know, Amerique. Is Arthur's thin head getting to you, too?"
"Believe me, there isn't much in that head to begin with." Arthur said as he pushed Alfred back a few feet.
"I'm serious, dudes. The guy is literally insane. I snuck into his doctors appointment, and I eavesdropped on him. His doctor was talking in some weird medical terminology, and Mark was making fun of you, and the guy called him a threat to others."
"What did that idiot say about me?" Arthur said, putting his fists on his hips.
"You were so dense in your rebellious days, Angleterre. Did you not hear the part about 'threat to others?'" Francis asked.
"Should we save him?" Alfred asked when he turned to Silvia, putting his hands on her shoulders.
"From what? Himself?" Silvia asked.
"Yes. Actually, I'll save Artie. Artie, you're coming with us." Alfred came over and picked Arthur up. Arthur put his arm around Alfred's neck and started choking him. Alfred let him go.
"I'm not going anywhere with you losers. I've already moved my stuff in. Where is he, anyway?"
"Downstairs. We're going to a Bears game, and he's waiting downstairs. I needed to tell you this."
"I mean," Silvia started. "He hasn't done anything yet. He seemed harmless. You know, one of those troubled yet cute types. I guess we should just make sure he doesn't get mad or hurt in any way."
Francis frowned. "What's that supposed to mean? We're not cute enough for you, Silvia?"
"Yeah, we're totally troubled. Especially Iggy. He needs more help than anyone."
Arthur took a pot and thinker Alfred on his head, knocking off his glasses. "I agree with Silvia. As insane and lame as he could be, he did technically bring me into this world. If there's one thing I respect so far, it's his panache."
"Idiot. You don't know what panache means." Francis said, chuckling slightly. "But back to what you said, Silvia."
"Of course you're not cute, Francis. You're gorgeous." Silvia grinned and twirled one of Francis's blonde locks around her finger. She looked over to Alfred. "You too, Alfred.
Alfred smiled. "Of course. Can't leave the hero out. Right, Iggy?"
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just go to your little game of not-football."