The Disability Chat

Dr.Mencha:

Executioner. Well. That pretty much set up the tone for the rest of this didn't it? Though... Really he didn't look anything like any executioner I'd ever thought about. But again, different universes. Don't judge. " I see. And... Clearly his occupation doesn't interfere with your ability to be friends with him... Can I ask why you brought that up first?" I asked, trying to keep from simply replying to everything with the word 'explain' and show that I was engaged in the conversation.

Cricket

"You said explain." I was now talking more down to my paper than anything else. It was easier that way, not talking to her face. Who knew paper could be friendly? It'd only cut me before, never talked back. "...That's why. 'E 'as it worse than me."

Dr.Mencha:

Ah. Ok then. I made another brief note on my paper about eye contact. We'd work on that. "And what makes you say that he has it worse than you?" I inquired, hoping that I wasn't going to sink myself into a line of circular questioning there. That happened occasionally. Circular questioning. You thought you were asking an incisive and thought provoking question but you ended up only causing the same answer again and again.

Cricket

I thought I'd just answered that. His job, mostly, where he lived, everything. I think the piece of paper wanted more specifics, though. But then ... more specifics meant ... more specifics. Vague was safer. I decided to keep things vague and hope it didn't get past that. " 'is job... 'is boss..."

Dr. Mencha:

That was the second mention of his boss and the second mention of the job. Clearly that housed some kind of importance. " well... You've mentioned that. What about those things though, Cricket? I mean... I'm employed... I have a boss... Well.. A district manager but, same idea. I wouldn't consider either of those things inherently... Bad. So... What about his job and his boss is so bad?" I asked, kind of curious at this point, as well as wondering as to whether I'd have to make a call about T.Mor.

Cricket

And now things were getting more specific. I was silent for a while. Every one of my thoughts were telling me to turn back. "...No, can we..." I searched for the words and pressed my fingertips more urgently against my neck like that might help. "...Can we not..." Damnit, I felt like T.Mor. I ended up just shaking my head.

Dr. Mencha:

Struck a nerve already? Oh dear. I was quite concerned for the both of them by this point. "Can I ask what is making you uncomfortable?" I asked, hoping to maybe get there indirectly.

Cricket

"...I'm not one t'...dig up th' past. On purpose," I answered simply, watching the words materialise in ink and then fade to white.

Dr. Mencha:

Well. That was going to be an issue. "Well... Sometimes talking about the past can help us sort out our feelings. If something bad has happened, talking about it can help you work through it so it doesn't bother you as much. And I just want to help you...ok?" I asked. I knew that it would be difficult to get him to talk about anything, but...I thought that going through whatever it was would help him.

Cricket

"You're paid t' 'elp me..." I glanced up, if only for a second. "Aren't you?"

Dr. Mencha:

Well... this was awkward. Not something I hadn't dealt with before, but still kind of unpleasantly awkward. "Well...yes. I do get paid. But... honestly. I don't do this for the money. If I just wanted the money, I could have gotten any other job that didn't require 12 years of medical school. I do this because I want to help people. Ok? " I asked, hoping that that would clear up that issue neatly. It wasn't A guaranteed solution, but it was normally a good place to start with this kind of thing. Answer his questions, prove that this wasn't a one way street.

Cricket

Her face seemed honest enough. I only caught a glimpse before I looked back down. ". . . So 'is boss's name . . . Mr. Face," I began hesitantly. There it was. A new name was out there, and there was no putting it back. Now where to go from there. "Not quite th' guy you'd want t' tick off."

Dr.Mencha:

And now we had another player in this. Alright. I put the name Mr.Face down on the file as well, and drew a few arrows to indicate that T.Mor was employed by this guy. "Why do you say that? What is he like?" I asked carefully, watching the top of his head as he read. He'd been looking at me. Briefly. I didn't mind in the slightest. It was good for him.

Cricket

I shifted. More like turned sideways in my chair so my legs were swung over the armrest because I figured I'd be here a while. I kept my hair in my eyes just enough. I could read the paper on my propped-up knees like I was reading it off a . . . what do that call those book-displayer things, that keep the thing at an angle? If I glanced to the side I could catch bits and pieces of her expression without straight-on looking at her. "A dictator."

Dr.Mencha:

...This one was extremely talkative. And fantastic at answering questions. " He's like a dictator. ...ooook... And, what would you say that a dictator is like?" I asked, writing down the word with a question mark next to it. Some patients came into this all with pre-conceived ideas about what certain things meant and what kind of connotations came with what word. It could even be a cultural thing. ...So... sometimes it was just a case of the patient needing to explain a cultural reference... and sometimes it was just a case of the patient needing to explain all together.

Cricket

"Not like a dictator. A dictator," I said, glancing at her through my hair.

Dr.Mencha:

"...Ah. I see. So... T.Mor is an executioner for his government." I stated, making sure I was getting this all sorted out straight. It wasn't like I had a lot to work with at the moment, but still. Had to make sure I had it all in order in case I ever received any more precious information from Cricket.

Cricket

"Aye."

This was all going by very slowly. It was like pulling off that bandaid thing they slapped on my arm. To tear slowly, or do it in one rip? I haven't a clue. Time to change tactics, perhaps. This was going to be a lot of words . . . I explained carefully, trying to keep my voice . . . well, normal. It all felt very soft to me, but I didn't want to be too loud. It was as if everyone else might be hearing only silence as well, and I might break it. " . . . As said . . . you don't want t' tick 'im off. 'e tortures people. There were a few mis'aps. It wasn't pretty. Friends involved. T.Mor 'as t' work for th' same guy every day. Things 'ave 'appened. There's nothing you people can do about that. . . . As said . . . I just want my 'earing back . . . and 'im safe . . . and nothing else from you." Alright. There we go. I didn't want to talk ever again for a while or so.

Dr.Mencha:

I remained in silence for a few moments after that. Mr.Face was a torturer, who employed T.Mor...to kill people, and there had been...what sounded like multiple incidents... with people beyond just Cricket and T.Mor involved...Well, I didn't know specifically if T.Mor had been involved. Though, it did sound as though there was something going on with T.Mor in that situation, and really it wasn't shaping up to sound like a very good place to be employed.

I ran a hand through my hair, uncertain as to how to proceed exactly. Sounded like I'd have to get T.Mor a case manager or something at the very least, and I'd probably be working through all this stuff with Cricket for weeks. ...That is if I could actually get him to speak any more than he just had. "Can you be a little more specific on 'things'?" I asked after a long moment. " I realise it's a really delicate subject for you, but... I do need a little bit more before I can actually do anything for either of you." I explained quietly, matching his register. I wanted to be scribbling notes madly, but knew that that probably wouldn't be terribly well recieved by him.

At the same time, I should have probably already been writing up several other things for each of them, and getting my fingers into court proceedings. I realised that whatever government we were probably going to be dealing with wasn't going to crumble just because I wanted it to... but surely I could at least get T.Mor out?

Cricket

The paper was blank for a long time after that. I sat back, content to just sit and forget. Then she asked me to elaborate. It was my turn to be silent for a while, after that. How could I explain? She really only knew a fraction of everything, as a matter of fact, yet I couldn't seem to find words. Or, I didn't want to find them. What about Peter and Marley, or Finn back in Luna, or Luna in general, or . . . ?

Oi my my. All of these things came rushing at me. There was quite a bit to talk about where there had been none before. . . . My life isn't quite a normal one . . . is it?

No, everything is fine. It'd been fine, I . . . I'd had it all tucked away and under control before she'd tried to get me to talk. There was no use digging at old scars. I'd been fine! Why was I here? I didn't need this.

She'd asked a question.

Aye. It was a lot easier to get lost in the sound of my own thoughts nowadays, I'd found. Now . . . what was the question. She'd wanted me to elaborate. ". . . You don't need t' do anything." I pulled my hand away from my scar and forced it back to the base of my neck where it should have been. " 'ow long are you going t' keep me 'ere?"

Dr.Mencha:

...I didn't need to do anything. If that wasn't a mixed message. When he finally spoke... I was left completely confused. I understood what was going on...he was denying it, he was denying that there were problems...but still. The sudden change of heart was a bit puzzling. "I was under the impression that you wanted me to help T.Mor. ...To help you...so getting your sound back will be easier. What changed?" I asked, ignoring the other question for the moment. We still had a good twenty minutes left. And I'd want to see him later this week, and get someone to go talk to T.Mor as well. I wanted to get to the bottom of all of this to help them. And... quite frankly... this was difficult. This was a difficult situation.

Cricket

"My mind. I changed my mind . . . Are we done 'ere?"

Dr.Mencha:

"...Alright. You don't want any help. Ok. I understand that. Fine." I stated, only somewhat irritated at having to pull a tactic like this to keep him talking possibly. "Consider your friend." I would continue on a longer speal, but I didn't want this to be overly cheesy. Being too cheesy could ruin the whole deal.

Some days I hated how much acting came with helping people. I just wanted to help... why did they make me bend over backwards before actually letting me? I mean... Alright. I understood that if they were cognizant of the fact that they really needed help they would probably not be here... but still.

Cricket

Apparently, not. I almost told her that she ought to be able to talk to him herself, but then I realised . . . T.Mor is T.Mor. Would he want to speak for himself? Though, I wasn't sure if he wanted their help either. As far as I knew, he was in the same position as me.

"If 'e wants 'elp, I'll talk," I said after a moment. ". . . or 'e could talk for 'imself."

Dr.Mencha:

"..Alright. Promise me you'll talk to him about it?" I asked. I did worry about them. Really. And I wasn't just going to let him walk out of the office and not come back here, if it was within my power to do so... which... if I got someone to go see T.Mor... I might get to talk to Cricket more. I felt like nothing had really been resolved here, just a whole bunch of questions asked and then left unanswered.