“This.” the doc regarded him with a cool gaze. Shaun quailed slightly. This was not one of those people. This was someone who treated more... messed up people. It was a min-security prison, but still. Something about that doc... scared Shaun. “This is important. You should take it seriously.”
Shaun fiddled with his shackle. “Oh, I'm serious.” he babbled, “You don't even know how serious I am.”
“Tell me.” The phsychiatrist turned over a card, showing Shaun the image on it. “Whats on the card?”
A scantily clad man Shaun thought morosely, but he didn't want the doc to think that was all he thought about. Sure, he thought about that a lot, but he kind of had a right to, being a young man and all. He knew his type – lithe and agile and mischevious, a bit like him. Yes... his type was in the mirror. Not that he was narcissistic or anything but...
He had to give the doc an answer.
“It's me. But, like, if I was a dancer.” he sighed, “It looks active and energetic... I guess I'm having fun in that inkblot. Theres so much I could be, you know? Maybe if I served my time I could be, like, one of those dancers with the costumes and the storylines... all those acrobatics, you know? The chances on that are pretty low now...”
Ah, well.
The psychiatrist nodded. “Tell me more about this... dream...”
Shaun was happy to. He was chatty by nature, and dreams that would never be – acting, performing, dancing – these were far from any thing he really needed to be concerned about. He didnt care if the doc heard them.
“I'm going to ask you a question now. Answer it honestly”
“All right.” said Shaun. He could sense that the session was almost over, and he was ready to be done.
“Another faction member that you have not yet met is being beaten to death. How do you react? “ the doc asked
“Wow, uh, our faction?”
“Yes.”
“What are they being beaten to death by?”
“Up to you.”
“Well, if it was another faction member, I'd try to talk them down. We need every able body, right, so we gotta not murder each other... uh... but if it was an undying...” Shaun cringed, “You know, I'd hate to say it, but I think I'd run.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I'd run and get help. I'm no good in a fight, not really, and I don't want to tangle with that... thing. Better someone else take care of it than me, you know? I'd just make things worse or end up dead myself... Not something I want.”
The doc scribbled something definitive looking down in his notebook. “Well, thank you Mr. Sawyer, you're free to go...” their lips quirked into a smirk, “Well not free.”
“I know what you meant.” said Shaun, giving the doc a sad chuckle before he left the room...
