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It had been a long time. Nearly three years on the dot. A few days later it is.
On that day the person, that woman in white who waltzes in everyday does such the same, entering his small confinement.
Kindly smiling she presents a plastic platter each cup a distinctively different colour, "The yellow cup is yours Sebastian."
He takes the cup swiftly from the array shown. The medicine inside is supposed to keep him well. More mentally than anything else. It'd be this afternoon that he would possibly clear for sane. Then he could go on the search. All up to the counselor though.
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"So, Sebastian, do you feel you're improving?" That starts off simply enough, the counselor inquiring at a self assessment.
"Yeah, I feel a lot better I can't see him anymore. Don't even converse with him."
If she weren't too tired to dig she would've found it to be a lie. Sick of having him here for three years, with biweekly meetings, probably reinforced her lacklustre questioning.
"You shouldn't refer to the voices with proper names and pronouns, remember? It only reinforces their convincing effect."
Seb somewhat scrunches his nose in distaste at her inference as there being more than one voice. Its always been one.
"Jim's a fine name for him."
With that Sebastian edges himself from a possibility of release today to no chance.
The counselor sighs pushing her glasses by the middle up the bridge of her nose. "How many times do we need to reasses you? James Moriarty isn't real. You can get out of here if you let it go. This thing isn't real."
"He was to ME." he snapped. Hands threaded through his hair as he tried to smooth out the strands, he wasn't allowed gel or oil something to do with hospital policy and a man eating a full tube once. Oh well.
"We'll have to discuss this in two weeks then."
Sebastian sighs looking outside a magpie quickly ascending as soon as he's glanced at it out one of the five windows in the occupied building. Another fortnight.
"Okay doc." He stands up walking out the door, he's classified nonviolent. No nurse escort for him.
The door shuts behind him before he heads to dinner.
"I really have to shut you down in there if imma get any freedom." Sebastian mutters to himself.
«dear dear dearie me. just don't blab about specifics you would've been out a year ago» Jim echoes into the back of his mind.
"If you weren't a specifics kind of bloke then I wouldn't have been ever so obliged." Sebastian whispered.
If anyone sees behaviour gone worse there's no meeting for a month.
"Just shut up. You're dead. Dead, dead, dead. No one but the black market and I ever knew who you were. Reputable service isn't you anymore if you're trying to get a consulting job from the hospital staff that's a new low. Even lower than the six feet in the ground you are now."
«ha. if you honestly thought that then why are you still talking to me.»
Sebastian sneered at himself, "I honestly don't know..."