AN: I have this mental image of him going, "Thou shalt not analyze me!" Sorry, nameless Arkham doctor. It's a risk you take when you apply for the job.
SwordStitcher-I would certainly consider it... MINE. ALL MINE. MY. PRECIOUS. Don't do that, it's creepy. Yess. So is that. Ha.
Just-Me-and-My-Brain-It amused me. Why didn't you tape it for later? I wasn't thinking about that at the time. Damn.
Jasmine Scarthing-Haha! Very educational, really. Maybe people will believe me now when I tell them that the only monsters in the world are man-made.
Voodoo-Mutant-Child-Well, it got you to stop arguing, so you should thank me. Or I'll send you your reservations. My secretary will mail you your bill.
He hates therapy. It was amusing at first, but now, on this hot summer day, he's sleepy and bored.
The doctor is irritating him. He shouldn't have picked apart the last one so quickly. But it was so much fun to watch him crumble…
"Mr. Crane?"
He looks over at the idiot they've put in charge. Sentimental fool-he's got a CD collection, a small library of Wilde, and two pictures of himself and a red-haired woman. Wife?
He glances down at the man's left hand. Yes. Married. Hm.
"Yes?"
"Are you listening?"
"No."
"I'm trying to help you."
"You're dismal. How did you even graduate?"
That silences him for a brief moment and he closes his eyes. It's too bright in here.
"I think that'll be all today, Mr. Crane."
Cheeky little upstart. Well. It seems that he's gotten a new toy.
"How's your wife, Doctor?"
That's all he says. The fact that he knows about the man's wife will be enough for today.
Let the games begin.
THE END