[it's a fine November afternoon, and outside the hospital there's an attractive redhead who seems to have set up shop. She's seated behind a table with another chair in front of it, just waiting for someone to sit down for a chat. The placard on the table reads 'Dominique Destine - M.R.C.', and there's a big box on the table that says 'Grievances
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That's not how this works.
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How, you pretend to be interested in my troubles?
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Focusing one's anger is a powerful tool.
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Ah? Nothing! Today was really fun!
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You don't have anything on your mind?
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