(Untitled)

[ofhisword]

[Today in the Fabled Center of Camp (tm), there is a booth with a rather large sign:

THE FEELINGS DOCTORS* ARE IN
* we have hundreds to thousands of years of experience in this field. trust us!

The two people who are seated behind the booth do not look pleased.]

[Elijah and Katherine will both be tagging! we out!]

Comments

[impiersonate]

. . . really. Really?

[ofhisword]

So it would seem.

[impiersonate]

This isn't happening.

[ofhisword]

And yet, apparently, it is.

[ofhisword]

[eyes him with disdain.]

It could use some ... eloquence.

[ofhisword]

I'm familiar with the name.

[certifiably]

[leaning in with one elbow on the table]

Oh, really? What sorts of feelings are we talking about?

[impiersonate]

Any that aren't spectacularly dull. It's difficult, but I know you can do it.

[certifiably]

That's so vague. Give me something to work with!

[impiersonate]

You cannot even define the extent to which I'm not here to entertain you. Think of something yourself and get back to me.

[rhymeswithpain]

...

[ofhisword]

. . .

[raises an eyebrow.]

[rhymeswithpain]

Hi.

[ofhisword]

Good afternoon.

[sharpesthorn]

. . . I hope you didn't make that ridiculous sign.

[impiersonate]

Do I look like a sign maker to you?

[sharpesthorn]

No, but you might look like a doctor.

[impiersonate]

Of feelings?