[soft scuffling sounds, a wheezy cough, a wet and throaty snarl, and then something slams down with force right next to the device. He sounds slurred. Drunk maybe, beat up, definitely. Six of one and half a dozen of the other.]
Don't think've it as 'nother holiday... celebrated joyfully wi'family and friends.
Think've it as another holiday
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You're not sounding well, Dr. Crane.
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[exhales] You and I sh-should talk...
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Must have something you want.
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Let's get something straight. You and I-- we might both operate on fear, but that doesn't mean I work the way you do. I use it to help, not hurt.
I don't need anything from someone like you.
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I know how...hhk--[cough-spits]--how loneliness feels.
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People have a reason to mistrust me. I'm dangerous.
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I spent some time...researching you. [hesitates--probably too drunk to approach this with his usual finesse, but he's willing to risk it] You're having nightmares.
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I'm a counselor. It's my job. [ A pause, then: ] And I'm not going to discuss my nightmares with you, Dr. Crane.
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--but you must know there're some secrets... we can never tell those we hold in high regard. Things that would damn us to them--and eat us alive in our silence nevertheless.
If you change your mind, my door is open.
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