And now, for the traditional therapist hazing ritual

[bovril_and_book]

DrMcCoy is a doctor, not a therapist. B|

Giles normally Watches.....

Pamela will sit next to Harley and look at you all. She's bored already.

Harley is always bored lately, so there's that.

DrMcCoy surveys the room. Patients and chairs, and not a lot else. He's not going to be doing anything fancy. The other doctor here is a little unexpected, though. He shoots him a 'and what are you doing here?' look.

HarveyDent is just sitting, passing his coin from hand to hand. And slowly noticing the lack of Eddie.

Giles is here making notes, currently. About everyone. But he'll give Luke a smile... sort of a smile.

HarveyDent flips the coin. Speak up it is. "Where's Eddie?"

SimonG will sit next to Harvey. He's got his pretty blue mask on, ziptied shut.

DrMcCoy: "After the last two times, it was decided that group therapy was doing more harm than good. He gets a free period while you're all in here."

Harley: "Lucky, lucky."

DrMcCoy crosses his hands on his lap, and looks utterly calm and collected. "You could try for a repeat performance, but I wouldn't put money on it. I'm Dr. Lucas McCoy, medical liaison and part-time therapist. I'm going to be running the group session tonight."

SimonG: "Hiii, Doc."

HarveyDent sits up a little straighter, looking interested. A part-timer, eh?

Harley: "Part-time therapist?"

SimonG glances around, sitting up a bit. "You know which of us is which, right?"

DrMcCoy: "Two days a week here, four days a week in the neurology department at Gotham General." God help him. His attention goes to Simon. "I've been through your files, but I haven't had the pleasure of meeting most of you personally, before today." He smiles a little. "That seems as good a place as any to start, I think."

Giles finally stops note taking. Or whatever he was writing out in that small notebook. "And I'm Dr. Rupert Giles. I've been asked to sit in on this session by Dr. House." If by 'asked' one means 'had a ball bounced on his desk and told to head off to the session',

SimonG: "I'm Simon, then, and I was supposed to get this mask off when I got in here. It's just for halls."

HarveyDent smirks. If this guy falls for that, he deserves it...

Giles will give you a look, Simon. "I'm rather sure that is not the case, Mr Garoux"

SimonG give Giles a Look right back. "Just Simon."

DrMcCoy does not, in fact. "Nice try, Mr. Garoux." The way he pronounces it, it all runs together into one syllable. "I wasn't born yesterday, and neither was my co-worker, here."

SimonG likes that pronunciation, and doesn't correct -him-. "Fine, fine. Worth a shot."

Harley smirks at that.

DrMcCoy: Smirk. "Didn't cost you anything." Now, down to business!

DrMcCoy: "Let's go around the room, left to right. Tell me who you are. Your name -- alias if you've got one -- and what you did to get in here. I want to hear it in your own words. If anyone wants to volunteer to start, that's fine and dandy, and if not, I'll pick."

SimonG: "I can go first..."

HarveyDent is not going to volunteer, thanks. He's going to sit back and not-quite-stare at the ceiling, until called upon.

Harley is, apparently, done being a model patient for the next few seconds.

DrMcCoy nods. "Alright, Simon. Go ahead."

SimonG: "Hi, I'm Simon, and I'm an addict."

SimonG grins. He has all his teeth again! "I'm here because I'm 'not fit to stand trial' for a couple of murders. And because Walter bashed my head in again and left me to die."

DrMcCoy sighs. Lord, give him strength. "You seem pretty upbeat about all of that."

SimonG shrugs. "I lived through it."

DrMcCoy nods. "True. Since I asked for it... what, exactly, are you addicted to?" Said with the tone of someone who knows he's set himself up for an awful joke.

SimonG gives him a flat look. "It was an AA joke. I don't do drugs."

DrMcCoy: "No followup?" Darn. Now he's almost disappointed.

SimonG shrugs. "Sorry. I'm gonna get addicted to Haldol, though, if you guys keep giving it to me every time I'm in the hospital. That stuff's good." And it's all he's on, this time around.

DrMcCoy: "You could try staying out of the hospital. Might help." But, you know what? Moving on. He looks to Harley. "Next?"

Harley bright, bright smile. "I'm *Harley*. I blew up a gas station. Among other things."

SimonG plays with the ziptie.

DrMcCoy: "And why did that land you in here, do you think, instead of Edna Mahan?" ..and don't think he doesn't see you, Simon. "Mr. Garoux. Hands off or you lose 'em."

SimonG very promptly puts his hands behind his back.

DrMcCoy: "-Thank- you."

Harley smirks. "Dependent personality disorder with depressive ideations."

DrMcCoy: "And a very particular fixation, I'm led to understand."

Harley: "Maaaaaaaaybe."

SimonG snorts.

HarveyDent grins a little bit. Oh, Harley.

DrMcCoy: "You might get your chance to tell us all about it, later. For now..." He points to Harvey. "Your turn."

HarveyDent sighs, and sits up a little straighter. "Harvey Dent." A little bit of hesitation. "Two-Face. I killed... a lot of people. Robbed a loan depot. Held the mayor and Mike Engel hostage on an episode of Gotham Tonight."

SimonG coughs.

HarveyDent looks over at Simon. What?

SimonG nothing!

DrMcCoy doesn't make an issue out of the cough thing, this time. "And how'd you end up in here, because of that?"

HarveyDent sighs -again.- "Because I've... I make a lot of my critical decisions based on coin-flips. Diminished capacity to choose between right and wrong, even if I'm aware of which is which."

Harley rolls her eyes.

DrMcCoy: "You have something to say about that, Harley?"

Harley smiles sweetly. "Not at all."

Pamela is about as bored as bored can be. Were she younger, she'd pull Harley's hair just for something to do. Instead, she picks at her fingernails.

HarveyDent gives Harley a vaguely confused look. Was something happening?

DrMcCoy: "If you say so." He's not going to push. Not this time. "And last but not least." He points to Ivy with his pen. "Your turn."

Pamela: "Dr. Pamela Isley also known as Poison Ivy. I made everyone afraid of pizza."

SimonG claps.

DrMcCoy: "And why did you end up in here?"

Pamela gives SimonG a look. She is not an amusement park spectacle, boy Lecter.

Pamela: "The lawyer said it made more sense." Have an annoyed smile, Dr. McCoy.

DrMcCoy: "And if had been your choice?"

Pamela shrugs. "I'm here to get *help* dear Doctor, only they can't figure out what's wrong with me." Or how to get her medication work as long as it's supposed to.

Harley: "This is *so* boring. We know why we're here."

Pamela: "But he doesn't, Harl, that's the point."

SimonG: "They fobbed us off on the new guy."

Harley: "He can *read*. Unless he can't."

Pamela: "Oh but reading isn't nearly as interesting as hearing it in our own words! To find out how *crazy* we all are."

DrMcCoy: "Are you all through?"

Harley: "We're in *Arkham*. We're pretty freaking crazy."

Pamela: "No, we're not through."

SimonG raises a hand. "Not crazy. For the record."

Harley: "Sooo crazy, for the record."

Pamela is going to look at SimonG again and shake her head. "So very, very crazy. And bored with this little 'meet and greet'."

DrMcCoy: "I know who you are and why you're here, the official word on the matter. But I wanted, like I -said,- to hear it from you. We can move on, if you like?"

Harley: "Are our words any different than the official word on the matter?"

Pamela: "Or we could keep appeasing your curiosity. This is your show." Pamela waves dismissively.

Harley: "Why are YOU here? Can we move on to that?"

Pamela chuckles. "Yes, why ARE you here?"

SimonG: "And what are your qualifications?"

Harley: "You're a part-time therapist, why does that land you *here*?"

Pamela leans over to Harley. "And why is he so far from home, hmm?"

Harley: "Maybe *he's* crazy. I was crazy when I worked here."

DrMcCoy: "Because I just had too darn much free time." He's going to regret this, isn't he? "I'm specialised in psychology and neurology, got my doctorate from Mississippi University. I applied for the liaison job after Dr. House moved up the ladder, and he made me an offer I liked to do some psychotherapy work too."

SimonG: "Brains?"

DrMcCoy: "Brains -and- the mind."

Pamela snorts. "Who the *hell* in their right mind comes to work here?"

Harley: "No one."

SimonG: "No one. What about Doctor House? What's his specialty?"

SimonG is pretty much terrified of Doctor House, and he's only seen the man, never spoken to him.

Giles thinks this session is going fantastically well. He's not making notes, but he's watching with great interest. And being quiet. Because it's not his session.

Pamela: Don't think you haven't been noticed, quiet man in the corner. Pamela just likes ignoring all the men until they say something worthy of making fun of.

DrMcCoy: "Dr. House is... infectious diseases and nephrology, if I remember right." He shoots Ivy and Harley a half-annoyed, half-amused look. You think he isn't used to being mocked by beautiful women? Hah. Neither of you have -anything- on his ex. "Would it matter all that much if I was?"

Harley: "Infectious diseases. Pft. Are we *diseases*?"

Pamela: "I am." And she means it.

DrMcCoy: "You'd have to take that up with him." And oh, please, let him watch. "Any other questions?"

HarveyDent is mostly watching Giles, honestly. Because he's a rebel. Or... no.

SimonG hunches his shoulders. Fuck doctors. "What's he going to test on us?"

Harley: "Are you *crazy*?'

Pamela: "A better question is who *isn't*." Pamela points at SimonG. "Not a word."

SimonG: "Not. Crazy."

DrMcCoy: "Never been diagnosed." He turns his attention to Simon. "You think he's here to use you all as a bunch of guinea pigs?"

Pamela sighs and shakes her head. "Stupid boy."

SimonG nods, expression serious.

Harley: "Of *course* he isn't. Just Simon." Oh, Harley.

Pamela: Well that makes Pamela smirk. "Just Simon, then."

DrMcCoy clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Click! "None of that, ladies."

Pamela ignores Dr. McCoy and keeps right on smirking.

SimonG shuts up, staring at the floor.

Harley: "None of *what*? We can't talk?" Oh, who is she fixating on now, Doc?

Pamela: "We can't pick on poor wee little Simon." Pamela snorts.

DrMcCoy weighs the pros and cons of taking time to tackle Simon's delusions, versus keeping the conversation going, and... sorry, Simon. You lose. "Don't make things hard for your fellows, if you please. That goes for all of you."

Pamela: "Aww, we're supposed to play nice, now?" Pamela wonders when she gave the indication that she gave a damn.

Harley: "Apparently."

DrMcCoy: "Golden rule, Dr. Isley. You all chose to come to this tea party for one reason or another. If you'd rather go back to the hall and stare at the ceiling like the other 23 hours out of the day, I can call a couple of guards for you."

Pamela does a little sing-song under her voice and shrugs. She doesn't really care, she only came because Harley went.

SimonG glances at Pamela, frowning.

Pamela waves her fingers at Simon. Hiii~

Harley: "If you think patients are going to be nice during every group session, you are at the wrong hospital."

DrMcCoy: "I don't care about every session. Just mine." He smiles, as syrupy-sweet and astringent as a big glass of tea. "The last few times you all did this sort of thing didn't end too well. That doesn't mean we're going to stop doing 'em, I'm sorry to say, but obviously, there need to be some changes. I want to know what -you- think should be changed."

DrMcCoy: "What you want to do, and what you don't. Your fellow patients don't count as a 'don't want.'"

Pamela: "A garden would be nice. Therapeutic, even." Eyerolling because she's more likely to get the moon, really.

SimonG deadpans. "Kitchen therapy."

Harley: "Field trips." Just as deadpan.

SimonG: "Can I go back to my cell? I don't feel good." ... Maybe that's because you haven't eaten in eight days, living on water and milk, Simon.

HarveyDent finally speaks up again. "Movies."

SimonG: "... Unless there's gonna be a movie."

Pamela snorts softly again.

Giles will actually note the suggestion of 'movies'. Mostly because it's interesting that Dent appeared to put thought into his suggestion.

DrMcCoy bears this storm of sarcasm rather well. "Not today. I'll call someone." A nod to Pamela. "I've heard they keep suggesting that, but it never happens. A shame, if you ask me."

Harley: "They're probably afraid we'll strange the guards with weeds." Smirking.

Pamela: "They're afraid of exposing us all to *air*." Or something equally ridiculous.

Harley: "Well, we might get the vapors."

Pamela laughs. "Heaven help us all."

SimonG: "I wouldn't trust either of you with a trowel."

Harley: "I never killed anyone with a *trowel*."

Pamela: "Learn to dig with your *hands*." More eye rolling.

SimonG: "Not afraid you'd break a nail?"

Pamela smiles sweetly at Simon and gives him the finger.

DrMcCoy gets his walkie and radios for a couple of guards to take Simon back. "They'll be here in a few. I'm gonna guess it's the tools, and what you can make with some of those plants, if you've got the know-how." Looking at you, Dr. Isley.

Pamela: "Can't do much with daisies and dandelions last I looked." Well that might be inaccurate.

SimonG smiles sweetly back.

DrMcCoy: "Make a hell of a wine."

Pamela: "There is that. Never was much for alcohol."

Harley: "Can I go too? I'm not feeling very groupy anymore."

Pamela gives Harley a look. A 'don't leave me with the testosterone, damn it woman' look.

Harley gives her a look right back.

Pamela: "Why don't we just call it a night. Or whatever time it is."

DrMcCoy shrugs. "I'll ask around, see what the word is." Harley speaks up. "If you're sure. Anything else you all would like to see done? Within the realm of plausability."

SimonG: "Could we have a longer lights-out at night?"

Harley looks annoyed at that, ok.

Pamela: "Oh, yes, less light. Marvelous idea." No, not really.

SimonG: "Fine, could I have a longer lights-out?"

Harley: "Some of us *like* light. And *reading*"

DrMcCoy: "I'm pretty sure that wouldn't fly, I'm afraid." Right. He's starting to get a headache, now. Might as well stop while no one's killed each other yet. "You, personally, I can ask about."

DrMcCoy: "You all want to call it a session, then? All agreed?"

HarveyDent shrugs, rolling his coin on his knuckles. It's not an answer either way. Or it's an answer both ways.

Pamela nods, once. She is not going to be in a room full of men without Harl, or you might all end up violent ill.

SimonG s guards are here, so he's getting up anyway. He really doesn't feel good at all.

DrMcCoy: Those fellows take Simon away, and Luke makes a call for more of them, for the rest of the group. Hey, no one got bitten or had a breakdown. He considers that a win.

DrMcCoy neatens up his notes, once they're gone, and starts sorting notes to files. And looks over at Giles, sidelong. "You know, I'm supposed to be a doctor, here. Not a babysitter."

Giles: "You'd be amazed at how being one means being the other...."

DrMcCoy tsks. "At least I'm making more than five dollars an hour." Time to go! Doesn't mean he can't make conversation with Giles as he does, as a palate cleanser. "You been assigned to any of them, yet?"

Giles: "Not yet, no. I've had some sessions with some general population patients. I'm not sure if Dr House is trying to ease me in or lull me into a false sense of security."

DrMcCoy snorts. "With him? Definitely the latter."