(Untitled)

[doc_w]

Clair makes her way to Dom's office. She knows this is a conversation that might not even occur, but, damnit, she was going to try.

She knocks on Dom's door, then.

Comments

[shoppingmaster]

"It is open! Step right in."

He sounds very awake, and in a good mood.

[doc_w]

So she does!

"Hey, Dom. Feel like seeing how long we go before the conversation gets shut down from the inside?"

She closes the door behind her, not as though that's going to grant them much privacy.

[shoppingmaster]

"Sure...?" He's lying on his back on his wide, brown leather couch, tossing a handball up near the ceiling and catching it. There was paperwork all over his desk, and the phone was off the hook.

Typical sort of day for Dominic.

[doc_w]

She sits on a nearby chair.

"I'm sure you've noticed that Z's tumbled headfirst into another huge depression, not that he's ever managed to crawl out of the last one." A sigh. "I love him, but ... this is getting to be too much, you know? The doctor in me is itching to push antidepressants down his throat. I put B on speed dial a while back and I'm thinking of contacting her and sending him in her direction.

I'm just gonna ... need a little help."

Sheepish lil Clair.

[shoppingmaster]

"He's overworked. I couldn't imagine dealing with having Auri in your head. Or being in his."

*throw, catch. throw, catch*

[doc_w]

"That's just the thing!" She reaches out and snags the ball out of the air on its next ascension. "Don't you think he needs some help with this?"

[shoppingmaster]

"I don't know that I'd want a psych digging around in my mind." He didn't sound convinced of his own bullshit, though. "Besides, I don't know if he'd go willingly anyway."

He reaches for his ball.

[doc_w]

"That's why we need to convince him to go. You're good at that sort of thing. I'm just a meatball surgeon."

She holds it behind her back.

[shoppingmaster]

"Well okay... yeah, he's been kinda disturbing lately. He hasn't said much to me, not since that whole yellow thing."

He waaaaaaaaaaaants his ball. Wibbleface.

[doc_w]

"So you'll help me?"

She'll give it back if he says yes.

[shoppingmaster]

"Well, yeah. I don't think he's gonna go for it, but what the hell kind of nice guy am I if I don't vote for Intervention."

[doc_w]

Forgive her, she's a mother. Mothers do stuff like this sometimes.

"Thanks, Dom," she answers with a sigh, handing the ball back. "We just have to figure how to do it, now."

[shoppingmaster]

"There's always the easy way. Knock him out and drag him."

Throw, catch. Throw, catch. It could get mesmerizing, this.

[doc_w]

A snerk. "I'd thought of that. Just trank him and drop him off in B's office. Dunno if she'd like that much, though."

[shoppingmaster]

"Yeah, I don't think he'd like that either. That'd probably be the wrong foot to start out with."

Hmmm.

"We'll just gang up on him. Anyone else you know of that would help?"

[doc_w]

"Hmm. Gabriel, probably. Maybe Alistair."