"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.
"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 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 sounds very awake, and in a good mood.
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"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.
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Typical sort of day for Dominic.
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"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.
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*throw, catch. throw, catch*
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He reaches for his ball.
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She holds it behind her back.
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He waaaaaaaaaaaants his ball. Wibbleface.
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She'll give it back if he says yes.
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"Thanks, Dom," she answers with a sigh, handing the ball back. "We just have to figure how to do it, now."
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Throw, catch. Throw, catch. It could get mesmerizing, this.
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Hmmm.
"We'll just gang up on him. Anyone else you know of that would help?"
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