As breakfast ended, Sasuke's nurse returned and tapped him on the shoulder (he nearly put a fork through her hand, but failed because he grabbed the spoon instead; she'd tut-tutted him and warned him against further violence).
She had then mentioned two words that made him want to put a fork through his own hand in hopes of being given high-concentration painkillers and left to drift in their haze. Therapy and Muraki.
Sasuke could barely handle River, who was confusing and benign; there was no way he could deal with Muraki, who was purposefully infuriating and in no way benign. Protesting got him nowhere ("It's good for you, Sean, be a big boy, now, Dr. Muraki is so nice and handsome!").
Only the fuzziness of blindness dampened the sheer horror he felt as he was carefully seated in a not-uncomfortable chair and left alone with that man with nothing more than a cheerful, "Good luck, Sean!"
He slumped in the chair, defeated, staring at nothingness behind the dark glasses. Do your worst, he thought blearily. There's nothing worse.
When the nurse ushered Sean into the room, Muraki was sitting behind his desk as usual. Where most doctors would need a mug of steaming coffee or tea to goad them into alertness, Muraki only needed subtle, familiar beauty.
"Good morning." He greeted, perhaps a little more pleasant than their first meeting. It was Sean who had promised they would never see each other again. That was too bad for him.
Muraki rested his elbow on the table and, his chin brushing his knuckles as he leaned closer. His voice quiet and melodic, as if he'd just brought them to a table in some fancy five-star affair. "Glasses, Sasuke-kun? It's cruel to hide your eyes from me."
Sasuke's head tilted up to face the voice out of habit, and his fingers twitched as if heading for a weapons pouch that was no longer there. Even if he had it, there'd be little point. He could hit a target based on sound only if it didn't move -- no matter how slow a civilian could be, he couldn't trust his aim that much.
Besides, what would that get him? He couldn't exactly fight off nurses and orderlies with sedatives right now. Hell, he probably couldn't fight more than one person without being overpowered.
Normally, he would have glared and refused to take the glasses off, but the usual fire was completely absent in his manner.
"The nurse gave them to me," he said shortly, as if it was an effort just to speak. It was. Couldn't he just get this over with?
"I'm sure she had the best intentions." Muraki replied, a vague sort of amusement in his voice, quiet as it was. He raised enough to reach across the table with his better hand, touching only the glasses. "However, I'd appreciate it if you didn't wear these," And he pulled, gently but firmly. "For our little chats."
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She had then mentioned two words that made him want to put a fork through his own hand in hopes of being given high-concentration painkillers and left to drift in their haze. Therapy and Muraki.
Sasuke could barely handle River, who was confusing and benign; there was no way he could deal with Muraki, who was purposefully infuriating and in no way benign. Protesting got him nowhere ("It's good for you, Sean, be a big boy, now, Dr. Muraki is so nice and handsome!").
Only the fuzziness of blindness dampened the sheer horror he felt as he was carefully seated in a not-uncomfortable chair and left alone with that man with nothing more than a cheerful, "Good luck, Sean!"
He slumped in the chair, defeated, staring at nothingness behind the dark glasses. Do your worst, he thought blearily. There's nothing worse.
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"Good morning." He greeted, perhaps a little more pleasant than their first meeting. It was Sean who had promised they would never see each other again. That was too bad for him.
Muraki rested his elbow on the table and, his chin brushing his knuckles as he leaned closer. His voice quiet and melodic, as if he'd just brought them to a table in some fancy five-star affair. "Glasses, Sasuke-kun? It's cruel to hide your eyes from me."
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Besides, what would that get him? He couldn't exactly fight off nurses and orderlies with sedatives right now. Hell, he probably couldn't fight more than one person without being overpowered.
Normally, he would have glared and refused to take the glasses off, but the usual fire was completely absent in his manner.
"The nurse gave them to me," he said shortly, as if it was an effort just to speak. It was. Couldn't he just get this over with?
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