The Doctor is In

[thecounselor]

[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.))

Comments

[tokencanadian]

[She walks in, looking stern, but polite. Or trying to.]

I've been meaning to speak to you again. We've definitely been having some trouble recently.

[thecounselor]

That we have.

[He gestures her to the couch.]

[tokencanadian]

[No!! She's going to stand and be confrontationa- no, yeah, she's taking a seat. An irritated seat.]

I'm sure you're probably aware of it.

[thecounselor]

I am. Our regular supply delivery has been interrupted by our...guests. I'm currently negotiating between the two crews to guarantee that the supplies can be delivered with no more hostages taken.

The problem is that the Captain wants us all dead anyway, so he has been...hard to convince to let us resupply.

[tokencanadian]

[Pyrrha... pauses, looking at the counselor for a good few seconds. She hadn't expected him to be so forward, but... he had tried to run away first off.]

Yes... I suppose he does, doesn't he? Well, I'm sure you've been doing all you can to convince him.

[thecounselor]

[He sighs and runs a slightly irritated hand over his military-short hair.]

What little cards I have left to play, yes.