Bridget certainly isn't looking for a psychiatrist, but he is looking for his mother-in-law to be sure she's healing well and also just to say hi. So, he may be coming in with some tea to share and a soft knock on the door.
In comes a concerned Harumi. She had a a therapist in her canon, one that actually served as a 'go between' between her and Maria by putting her in sleeplike trance.
She's concerned, very, very, concerned. Harumi thought Maria was gone from her life, that she could live in peace.
"Likewise," Helen replies. She reaches for her pad, notes Harumi's name, and pauses. "It's lovely to meet you, Ms. Chono. Would you be so kind as to close the door before we begin?"
Spying the sign, Aramat eyes the office with wariness. She doesn't trust psychologists at all. Still, the Doctor is a woman, and the name looks rather familiar. She comes in.
Dancy's just passing through the main room, with her daily ration of apples and cheese, when she spies the notice. She'll grumble a bit at the sight of it and start to slink away from it.
"Getting lunch, going back to keeping watch afterward," she says. She's likely working a second shift, given the disappearance of one member of the Shadow Angels and the indisposition of another.
Someone might knock on the doorway and if she looks up, Muraki will be just entering. "I saw your notice in the main room," he says. "I've some experience in dreaming, though it's more at the mystical end of the discipline."
He's a little too glib about it: he's avoiding something, or building up to it at his own pace.
A little too glib indeed. Helen sighs as she finishes her note from the previous encounter, and puts her pen down.
"Come in, Kazutaka, and if you have something you need to say, by all means, do so," she says tiredly.
There's always a bit of sour joy when she sees him, now that they are no longer lovers - she likes him, still, and is grateful for his friendship, but part of her misses him, too.
She's sorry also that she could not give him what he wanted - it was, alas, too much to ask of her.
He'll enter, eying the couch a bit thoughtfully before seating himself on it: he'd rather be cuddling with her on it, to be honest, but that's a dream that's not coming true. "I will admit, I don't dream much: I try to avoid it, if I can help it," he says, straightforward. "Likely not a healthy course of action, but that's why I'm here."
Helen settles a little more into her armchair, makes a listening sound. She wonders how one can avoid dreaming - one’s subconscious is possibly the most difficult part of the self to control, and it is impossible for most, in her experience.
“What is your hope?” she asks, more gently. She’s slipped into her professional shoes, and is going to be ignoring their past baggage, if she can.
Comments 192
"Helen? Are you in?"
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"Oh, Bridget!" and Helen scrambles for her cane, stands, if slowly. "It's so lovely to see you."
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"I'm so happy to see you. You're looking much better today."
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"You're always so sweet to me, Bridget," she says fondly. "Have you been well?"
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She's concerned, very, very, concerned. Harumi thought Maria was gone from her life, that she could live in peace.
"Good evening, Doctor." She greets her.
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She waves to the couch.
"I am Helen Curtis."
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"Hello?"
It will only last for a little while, she hopes.
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She enters in fully and offers a hand. "I am Aramat Drawdes."
Does it sound familiar?
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"Welcome, Ms. Drawdes. Would you kindly close the door, and come in?"
I don't *recall* Muraki mentioning her, but I'll check with Ref when I can. <3
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"Why, hello Dancy," she says, "in a hurry?"
As agreed ^^
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"Watch for?" Helen replies, and though she's still wondering what is up with Dancy, and thinking she might see a shrink....
Well, that's... hm.
It requires thinking. More than the 2 second gap between interjections allows. She saves it.
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He's a little too glib about it: he's avoiding something, or building up to it at his own pace.
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"Come in, Kazutaka, and if you have something you need to say, by all means, do so," she says tiredly.
There's always a bit of sour joy when she sees him, now that they are no longer lovers - she likes him, still, and is grateful for his friendship, but part of her misses him, too.
She's sorry also that she could not give him what he wanted - it was, alas, too much to ask of her.
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“What is your hope?” she asks, more gently. She’s slipped into her professional shoes, and is going to be ignoring their past baggage, if she can.
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