thecounselor | The Doctor is In

[Dr. Price's office is just about exactly what you'd expect from a psychologist's office in the year 6972. There's a large chair next to an equally large and comfortable couch, and a coffee table within reach of both. On the other side of the room, there's large desk with some kind of a computer screen made of glowing light. The metal walls in here have been covered with dark wood paneling, and the lighting is warm and comforting.

There is one of those shitty brass-handled green plastic-shaded lamps on the desk. Why is it there? Aesthetic, apparently.

The desk is flanked by bookshelves filled with nonfiction. There's of course the DSM-40, right next to the DSM-238. Both editions look about the same age, curiously enough. There are also various other books on psychology, psychiatry, and... Artificial Intelligence?

Huh. Everyone's gotta have some hobbies.

There's a long counter with various kinds of tea and a kettle that sits on the counter next to a button, as well as a small sink expressly for washing dishes. There's also a door in the back of the room that probably leads to Dr. Price's personal quarters (good fucking luck).]

((OOC: This is where you can tag if you want to chat with Dr. Price one on one. Y'all know how office hours work by now.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He's silent for perhaps a second too long, as he paces away from her. His steps are even and measured, and his feet take him behind his desk, sparing a glance at the shelf full of books about AI.]

...The Director of Project Freelancer is dead, Agent Connecticut.

[He looks at her, meets her eyes.]

This wasn't intended to be a test, but I'm afraid that it's become a trial. If the Captain's arrival was planned, I was not aware.

[ She goes still, staring. It seems impossible. Unthinkable. He could have told her that Carolina was dead, Maine...but the Director? The revelation prompts a million more questions - what had happened, how, if that was the reason for the end of the Project.

She doesn't ask any of them.

There are more pressing questions. More pressing problems, like the madman taking over the ship and trying to make the inmates - CT and the others - turn on each other. Like the one he'd already killed, for not following the rules.

She breathes out, slowly. ]

What would you need me to do?

[ He believes he can manipulate you, Akande's voice echoes in her head. She does her best to ignore it. ]

[When she remembers more, he'll tell her. For the last week it's what he's been telling himself, because he can recognize the small part of himself that wants, selfishly, for someone else to know. He wants her to know how vindicated her crusade turned out to be.

But right now, he wants to protect the inmates under his charge.

If this is a test for anyone, he wonders, might it be a test for him?]

Nothing that you're unfamiliar with. You would need to infiltrate his ship-

[This being the day before the resident founding father is executed for doing the same]

-to find any information that you can about where he came from and his crew.

[He paces around his desk again, glances at the smooth glass keyboard on top of it.]

Give me some time and I'll try to get your armor to you. With your illusory enhancement intact.

[Say, perhaps, if you make sure to have a regain earned for Week 4's mid-week delivery.]

Until then, see if you can get any information from him personally.

[ Right now, CT doesn't even know about her crusade. The risks she'd taken, the sacrifices she'd made. She doesn't know that the Counselor is asking her to do something very similar to what he's already seen her do.

What she does know is that something has to be done.

Her eyebrows shoot right up her forehead when he mentions her armor, the question half-formed before she can think twice. ]

How could you -

[ Never mind. It's not like he'd explain just how he has access to her armor, and anyway, it's not important. Still, the thought of getting her armor back is enough to erase any lingering doubts from her mind, at least for the moment. After practically living in it for so long, she feels terribly vulnerable without it. Especially now.

She nods, tongue darting out to wet her lips as she thinks quickly, already starting to formulate plans. It'll be hard. A challenge. But...it's necessary. It'll save lives, her own included. And maybe this time, she'll be up for it. ]

Yes, sir. I'll - I'll do my best.

[He affords her the kind of half-smile she ought to be well accustomed to. But there's something less condescending about it. It's still closely guarded, like a warden among unstable inmates, but it's the most genuine he's been this whole time.]

I know that you will, Agent Connecticut.

The Doctor is In

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