(Untitled)

[psychoanalyzes]

[Glances over his shoulder, looking lost.]

Comments

[bunnyslayer]

I'm not following you.

[psychoanalyzes]

What? Oh no. I just...this isn't, I just popped out to get a coffee and now, this.

[He gestures around himself.]

I'm lying on a street somewhere, aren't I? In a coma, or dying.

[bunnyslayer]

No, you're awake and alive and trapped in a holding dimension.

[ stated as plain fact. ]

[psychoanalyzes]

Trapped in a holding dimension?

[That sounds decidedly scifi for a purgatorial construct in his own mind. Then again...]

Are you joshing me? Is this some kind of prank?

[He half expects Angela or Hodgins to leap out from behind the rattan furniture and cackle madly at him.]

[malancholy]

[ enjoying a coffee on the patio, she just watches him idly. he must be new. ]

[psychoanalyzes]

Hello? I don't suppose you know where I am?

[He ventures tentatively, when he notices that she's watching him.]

[malancholy]

[ she sips at length, before answering aloofly: ]

L'hôtel.

[psychoanalyzes]

[He failed french but he can get the gist.]

That sounds ominous.

[He smiles sheepishly and rubs at his chin, trying to decide what he ought to do. What would Bones do? What would Booth do? Hmmm....]

[acafellow]

Hey. You, uh, okay there?

[psychoanalyzes]

I think so. It depends on how you define okay.

[acafellow]

Well, usually I define okay as being safe, for one. Secure, relatively. Also as long as there's no one out there plotting your downfall.

I'm told this is the lovely Zarah!

[psychoanalyzes]

Well, I don't know yet, seeing as how this is not where I intended to be. I was heading back to the Jeffersonian and then I was here.

As for someone plotting my downfall, I think I'm clear. What about you? Do you have reason to feel insecure?

Sorry, I should have introduced myself, I'm Dr. Lawrence Sweets.

[He holds out his hand to shake, seeing as how he needs some kind of normalcy in the midst of all the strangeness.]