Characters: Godot, open for students (or staff, hint hint) who want to speak to him
Location: Counseling office
Time: All day
Content: Godot sits and drinks coffee and talks about your problems. Or staff business. Whichevs.
Warnings: Coffee. Jazz. Metaphors. The usual.
(
Jazz for a lazy day )
Comments 20
But Godot was nice enough, and he'd promised Matt he'd show, so here he was again. He knocked on the door.
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"What can I do for you, Mr. Jones?"
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He'd have to check on that, actually.
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Then he slided the expected cup of coffee across the desk to him, leaning back further in his chair and sipping his own cup. "Here we are."
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He knocked on the door timidly.]
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[Still at his desk. Now idly toying with a pencil, passing it around between his fingers while sipping his coffee. He's weird, okay?]
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Should I sit down?
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[Still sitting there, casual as ever, still twirling that pencil around.]
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He rapped his knuckles against the door before pushing it open, greeting the man inside with a smile and a box of Krispy Kremes balanced carefully on one hand.
"I come baring donuts."
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He sat up, put his feet back on the floor and then stood up, heading over to the more comfortable seats in the middle of the room. "Have a seat. What kind of coffee would you like?"
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"Hello, I'm Matthew Williams?"
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He was currently in the middle of polishing his coffee machines. All 11 of them. "Have a seat. Get comfortable. Consider the wallpaper."
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"It's a nice color." He avoided any and all reason for why he might be here. After all, from what Al had said, he didn't have to talk to him like he had most of the psychiatrists before.
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Just then he pulled a second cup of coffee seemingly out of nowhere, setting it down expectantly on the coffee table. "There you are." Then he went back to his coffee machine. It still had smudges on it.
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This wasn't right, he knew. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. He remembered a post on the network, something he'd normally glance over, and considered it. Maybe...
It was a very tired and nervous J who stood outside Godot's office door. He didn't normally talk with people about his problems. That, of course, was probably why he was having such problems dealing with this one.
He knocked at the door, both and hoping and dreading that Godot would be in. He told himself that if Godot weren't then he'd just come back later, but he knew that wasn't the case. It had to be now or never.
So he knocked and waited.
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