Their raised brow turned from a grin to a flat-out laugh over the course of these few words and greeted him with a smirk and a sideways-glance, she answered: “Now it certainly is a most brilliant afternoon. I hope for you as well! But… let me look”, seven buttons on the tablet later, the answer followed: “In five minutes, he will be perfectly able to attend to your every need… medically speaking” They smiled sweetly.

“Really? Are you perfectly sure he is the only one who will be able to ‘attend to my every need’?” Asmodeus looked them up and down. Surely, she was an angel, yes?

Amurel laughed the second time in as many minutes and walked in the direction of the doctor’s offices, a known path by now, and said: “Oh, I’m sure not many people are able to do that, but I will be able to satisfy at least a physical one. If you would wait a moment?” They indicated the familiar room.

“Oh, I am eagerly awaiting your return,” as innocent as this will most definitely be, a demon can amuse himself.

He spread himself on the very comfortable sofa and, soon enough, was greeted by a smiling angel and a plate. With cake. A very distracting piece of cake. A chocolate-cream-cherry monstrosity that consisted of more layers and decorations than any kind of taste would allow in good conscience. But it looked like someone tried. In earnest. And it was somewhat endearing, perching it there, precariously.

“Genuine delight suits you well,” they said, mirroring his smile until they remembered themselves and coughed: “I apologise. Still. I’m sure your doctor will be glad he could amuse you”

“Really? Raphael produces pastry-shaped nightmares?” Felt right not to embarrass the angel further.

“… thank you… and… as for the cakes… well… you should have seen the first ones. Believe me, Raph’s getting there. And hey, everyone else gets free cake.” They shrugged and placed a bottle of water with an accompanying glass down on the table. “Guaranteed not to be blessed. And now… good appetite!” A wave and a closed door later, he was alone with something that some people would call a piece of baked goods.

The texture and fruits actually looked… good. And the various chocolatey forms did not melt away like bad Halloween decorations. It could be good if someone with a bit of visual guidance looked over it. It was worth a quick picture before he extracted a piece out of the mess with the tiny fork that came with it.

And it did taste… sweet. These were no sour cherries. This was sweet. And someone definitely still had to learn a thing or two, but the water helped. And after the first shock… well… if he ate small pieces it would not ruin his entire palate.

A few pieces later, the door clicked open behind him. And apparently the doctor’s coat got hung, at least it rustled like it, before Asmodeus swallowed and said: “Hello Raphael, I got to see your new hobby up close now and-“

He had turned to properly greet his doctor. And it happened at this very word that he properly saw… Raphael.

What he saw, was a very stiff and upright standing… barefooted person. With very wide and very green eyes. And wavy white hair. Approximately the right length. So far so good. The less correct attributes were: Five foot seven. Very tanned? Or Darker skinned? And, probably most prominently… curvier than usual.

“I think you saw me like this before,” the person pointed with a finger at Asmodeus and tapped with the other against their lips, frowning slightly, then continued, “Yes, if not – rest assured that I am still Raphael. Sexism affects angels and demons. So, some feel more at ease with a female doctor”

“Alright, certainly seems sensible” said Asmodeus, and watched a less than calm person circle the room. Sure. A healer could transform their body more easily than most. Still.

Raphael – the voice and intonation was the same, only about an octave higher – walked over to the table, looked at Asmodeus - actually looked him over twice - before staring at his usual chair. And took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose: “Alright,” she stepped on her own foot and scratched with her toes, “This,” she indicated her whole body, “was kind of exhausting to do. And you are extremely interesting,” she made a face, rubbing her forehead and pointed again: “While true, ‘s not what I meant. You require a lot of attention to do any good. So, we have two options. I... didn't expect you today, which is my fault entirely, you are free to come by at any time, but... I am kind of exhausted. Either have to send you away now - which I do NOT want, thank you for coming - or you agree to a seating rearrangement, which you can cancel at any time. Right now, I might look bored without meaning to. And you will see it and you are too smart, so you’ll… you’re extremely smart, so you’ll draw conclusions and it’s only because I’m tired. So. That okay?”

Asmodeus watched the whole ordeal with ever-increasing amusement. Certainly more of the Raphael he met in prison. Or the desert. Ts. And shook his head when he answered, grin firmly in place: “Not a problem, Raph. I understand, some just can not contain themselves if they look at me for a longer time”

“I believe that” Raphael looked at him with raised brows and simply kept looking. After a few moment, Asmodeus leaned back and opened his arms: “So? Where am I supposed to go?”

“Aaaah,” she scratched her arm, “Nowhere, actually” and then… she proceeded to seat herself on his thighs. One knee on each side of his hips. Naked knees. Because she wore white booty shorts. Arms were wrapped around his neck. Chin on his shoulder. Naked arms, because she wore a green tank top. And then… she let out a breath. “There. You can’t see me. Your thighs don’t sleep in cause I support myself… and I can rest my eyes cause I can’t see you either” She wriggled her legs slightly to become more comfortable. The arms were still loosely wrapped around him and were supported by the sofa. “And since you like men. This shouldn’t be uncomfortable for you. So. Since you asked last time… I’m very comfortable and kinda tired now. How are you, though?” She didn’t speak very loud. Didn’t need to, she was rather close to his ear.

Asmodeus smile stayed plastered on his face. He smiled and looked in the direction of the ceiling. A warm body settling itself on his lap to talk to him. This-

This will take a second to get used to.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a breath he walked into the house he was thrown out of not too long ago.  

„Hel-lo Amurel” Asmodeus grinned at the angel in charge of the counter, leaned on it while she sorted the papers in front of her.

Then she looked up and smiled pleasantly: “Hello. hottest divine embodiment of the darker kind in existence. I suppose you wish to have an appointment with Raphael?”

“Oh, so what a greeting. And that from such a lovely specimen as yourself. I see you changed your hair?”

They put a hand to their head, flattening the second stand with more ‘character than the others.

Their perfect smile twitched, just a second, and they answered: “… maybe. Maybe they react a bit more to my mood than anticipated”

“Well, it certainly suits you,” because it did. Angels were in need of some character.

They glanced sideways at Asmodeus, then at the file in front of them, shook their head and smirked. Smirking angels. What a sight.

“Thank you. But if you’d please follow me to the doctor’s office? He’ll see you momentarily,” they were already on the way, indicating the right way with their hand, clutching his file with the other. … he wondered what was written on there. Maybe also the ‘diagnostic findings’. Admittedly, he was a bit curious.

Maybe next time. For now, he said: “I’d follow you wherever you want me to” and did exactly that, resuming the position he had last time, kicking his legs over the armrest and grabbing the nearest pillow.

At least he was certain that the slight air current definitely was Raphael’s doing. If consciously or subconsciously was up for debate, but the currents were different in each room. It was not natural.

Click.

The door closed behind the angel and he padded – still barefoot – over to the armchair Asmodeus was lounging in.

“Welcome again to the clinic, thanks for showing up,” he said, seating himself and flipping open Asmodeus’ file. He didn’t read in it, but clicked a pen to be ready.

“Well, after the little show from last week, I just had to – fantastic wings, by the way,” he smiled at the ‘doctor’

And said doctor tilted his head and scribbled down a few words in the file. He still answered in an amused voice: “Thank you. They are rather new”

“Their status is still marvellous, if this is what you do when you are stressed. I understand the stress to work with that many people. And being responsible for them. But I have my own way of dealing with that. Maybe you could need some company next time you need to… blow off some steam?” Asmodeus raised both his brows.

Raphael pecked the notepad with his pen, slight frown in place,then finally said: “I think sparring with you would seriously break rules. And I can not argue that as neglible, at all. Wouldn’t you say so as well?“

Asmodeus laughed. It breaks out of him, not much he could do. Then said: “Aww, sweetheart... You think I mean sparring...”

Another scribbling on the pad, while he saidapparently genuinely curious: “Are you suggesting something else towards your doctor?“

“Well, I would hope so. Which do you think would be more controversial? Inviting you to bed or to fight?”

Raphael tapped the pen to his lip and seemed to give it serios thought, staring at the ceiling, then concluded: “Bed. Due to the stipulation of the fight being nonlethal and Rage not being your sin. Inviting me to bed – with assumptions - would directly correspond and it would count as... well, a temptation,” he nodded, apparently happy, then added: “Also: I can fix us both after a fight. No consequences“

“Ahh, see, a temptation. That might be a spot of fun for me... but no good for you, is it? Then I suppose a fight’s all we’ve got. Unless, of course, you wanted to invite me to bed?” There was always a chance.

But Raphael didn’t even flinch: „A doctor never invites a patient to bed if they have any respect for their own craft. Or accepts such an offer, naturally. 'Misplaced trust' is what you call it, I believe?“

Asmodeus shrugged: “Naturally. But my trust would be quite securely placed if you were to, say, whoop my ass in the desert platonically, yes?” Sometimes, angels were absurd.

'Yes. Since rules can be implemented quite easily. As an angel, I would definitely adhere to them. And nothing should influ-,' Raphael stopped talking. And his eyes went wide. He scribbled on the notepad, striking out several things, apparently, and then said: „And here I forgot that I do know some of your history. And I apologise. No desert fights – no fights, actually - with the archangel Raphael. I will not bring it up again“

“Aw, Raphael. You’re too good for your own... good. For what it’s worth, you’re welcome to fight me in the desert whenever you like, or anywhere else, for that matter. But I don’t think you would really hurt me, even if I got down on my knees and begged you to.”

His eyes snapped up when he said that, brows slightly drawn: "Naturally, I would not try to harm you. My way of incapacitating someone does not include harm. It's against my very being, but you obviously figured that already” The angel took a breath, then continued: “But… as for your… request? There is a distinction between harm and hurt. I think I hurt a lot more people than most. So, ah, do you want me to hurt you? I certainly can. But would you actually want me to?"

Still amused, he stared at Raphael, only a moment of thought here, then said: “Can you, now? And how do you think you would do that? Pop a rib head back in for me? Reset an old broken bone?”

"Oh. Everyone has slight imperfections. No exceptions. And healing those will hurt, if it needs to be done fast or on a schedule even more so. I would need to figure out if -and how much - harmed you were. And you would need to tell me how much you want to be hurt… if this is… what you want.” He didn’t look particularly happy. But confident in this. Body language sure. Huh.

If he grabbed his pillow a little tighter, it certainly could not be seen. Asmodeus said:“Come now, Raphael, is it really hurting if you’re helping? I’m not so sure it would have the same effect.”

Now Raphael tilted his head again and made another note. It ended with: "It would have the effect of fixing a few problems your body has. Plus pain. How much... is still up to you. It won't feel like I help at the moment I treat you. So… maybe that would produce the desired effect? I can only assume what that effect actually is. If you wish to explore the possibility, you know where to find me“

Abrupt movements like standing up cause the dizziness to spike, nausea and the dark spots to reappear. At least clawing into the armchair and standing with closed eyes seemed to be enough to equilibrate her balance organ. Or restabilize bloodflow… or… Raphael really did not know. Which was a bad sign.

.. at least her sinuses were free.

A cough confirmed that her lungs were not. Ah well.

Slowly ambling towards the clinic door, she opened it and… a man in a tailored white suit – including dress shoes – and a fitting sky blue shirt under the closed jacket stood there. Long, bound blond hair and equally blue eyes.  

It took a second to recognize the guest. The frown finally tipped her off.

“Greetings, Michael. Got briefed about ‘earth-appropriate’ attire?” The lack of visible muscle almost had her questioning. At least in this state. Why was thinking so difficult.

“Greetings, Raphael. It was appropriate. You are temporarily located on earth.” Michael said.

Her hearing did apparently not suffer. Same tenor-bordering-on-baritone as always. The sick doctor nodded, blinking very slowly: “What… can I do for you?”

“Your current state is not acceptable,” he said, frown still in place.

Raphael concentrated on the words.  What in the world they meant. Not an answer to her question.

 “… My… status will be,” she coughed into her elbow, slime wetting the scratching sound, “…better in about a week.” Nine days, the humans said. That there had not been any betterment yet… was simply a fact of life.

“Your services are required next week. Training with sharp weapons on officer level. It needs proper supervision.” The frown did not dislodge from his forehead.

Telling Michael that he can also just want things was… probably not a thing of this very day. Raphael grabbed the door frame for a more stable stance: “Lessons about footwork. I remember. I’ll send-,“ deep breath, “- a capable replacement.”

The frown deepened: “You will miss the lesson”

Her shoulders dropped a little. That was probably the closest to an admission the warrior would get: “Record it” Short break to breath and have less wet cough. It hurt. “I’ll watch. You’ll test next week”

“You’re supposed to follow your training regimen” Michael’s frown turned almost into a pout, before Raph’s eyes started to burn and she had to rub them. “No exceptions”

A smile tugged on her schapped lips. Michael liked to teach. All his subordinates did not need… lessons anymore. So he might sorely miss it. Together with the training-evaluation. Being almost-proud of his soldiers and telling her: “Not this week. Must… train medicine. Takes precedence.”

He did not look convinced: “You know about that.”

She was not sure if she knew anything at all, but: “Yeah. And you train every day. And let yourself be injured. On purpose, too.” Maybe his eyes swam then, too. “You know that, too. With me it’s… organs.” For emphasis, she tried to cough one out and took a rattling breath. “Let it fester to experience it. Proper risks. N all.” Currently, the door frame had the strange new attribute of spinning.

Michael rubbed his left… funny bone… - which was a nerve or… tendon? - and then said: “… how do I record it?”

An owlish blink and a moment of thought later, Raphael answered: “With your phone. Ask Amurel. I… have to fight my internal battles before they become bloody. Text me the next lesson, too.”

She nodded at him and waited until she received the answering head-wobble before she closed the door, leaned her back against the cool wood  and slid down the surface.

Eyes dried out, skin texture became somewhat flaky, her stomach had an indistinct feeling of unwell – neither hungry nor full nor sick nor anything distinct, a vague sense of unease…

Thinking felt like wading through molasses. Every movement made sure she remembered her limbs had joints. And nerves. And those could feel things.

Her hands were shaking - badly enough to make braiding her hair impossible.

At least her clothes were not complicated. Simple, patterned, wrinkle-free. Putting them on just made her skin irritated. No matter the material.  

Professionalism would not suffer from that particular problem.

Her head felt stuffed and flushed. Not visibly. But… everything felt too warm AND too cold.

That probably was what fever did to someone.

She got up.

Because the reception rang her up. Wonderful.

Angels don’t get sick leave, after all.

She could heal herself, any time, right?

Getting up was painful. Putting weight on her feet made them ache. Everything felt just slightly wrong and uncomfortable.

Even breathing came with a slight rasp. In her lungs. Her nose was still clear, no obstructing slime. Sometimes a drip of liquid, but nothing coagulated. She wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be that way, but that’s how it was.

With a sigh, she stepped in front of the mirror – her skin really had less of a shine to it, less filled out features as well. Her eyes were glazed over. Uncomfortable – and turned two hair strands around one another. It won’t do much, but there was less volume than usual, it would not spring apart immediately.

A shower was definitely in order, she actually sweated through her current clothes. Without moving. But well. It didn’t show. And deodorants existed for a reason.

For now, it would do…

Yawning – that hurt, too, and gave a strange buzzing sound in her head that stopped after about 20 seconds? Together with a strange tingling cold feeling running through her whole body – she walked three steps towards the door. Then held onto the wall. For a few seconds, to make sure the spinning stopped long enough.

Unfortunately, it got worse. She crouched down and stayed there until the black spots in her vision disappeared.

And humans went through this regularly.

She took another breath – not too deep, or there would be a cough – and walked down into the office. And from there, to the reception. Slowly.

“G-,“ this made an almost toneless sound. Great. She coughed, then said: “Good morning, Amurel, what do you need?”

 And then Raphael looked up to see her – the balance and definite existence of the floor had been more important – and… she looked… judging. That is… not really something, she usually does.

“You look terrible,” Amurel said. And looked.

“Thah-,” she coughed again, “That seems to be part of the experience,” and her voice already broke again. This was really a bit upsetting.

“… you should at least drink some tea. With honey. And sleep.” The angel actually frowned at Raphael. “Or… heal yourself, you don’t seem to get along well with this”

This was… not wrong.

“Yet many patients,” deep breath, “come here, showing these… symptoms. And I can’t honestly say I… have an idea what they feel like… I do believe it should help my empathy” Her next breath had a rattling quality. It was rather unpleasant.

“… you do need work on that department.” Was the honest answer. Wonderful. “Having you in a representative state would be preferable. To be honest. And we do have to inform an assortment of people of your state”

Raphael concentrated on standing straight. And then said: “Mh. Yeah, sure”

“But since there had been a few appointment requests, we needed to inform the requesting parties, so…” Amurel handed over a blank card.

Raphael opened it and read: ‘Get well. Gabriel.’ Which… alright.

Snapping the card closed, she held it out to give it back: “I… thank you. You can refer all requesters here, anyway. Every other attending doctor here has the required abilities to deal with anything appearing in peace times. Wing care can wait one week longer.”  There are routine check-ups. But none could not wait a week.

Raphael noticed her own shaky hand. Gabriel. That was the last time she had actually slept, hadn’t it. Unfortunate.

The card got taken back: “I’ll relay that message. What about the people that truly wish to meet you?”

It didn’t seem like there was not much more going to happen, so she walked back towards her office – to actually sit, really, being sick sucked – “If you can’t deter them, tell me about some kind of priority patient. Just… text me, if it’s an appointment. I’m going to sit down now. Thanks, Amurel”

She didn’t actually wait for anything, just slipped back into the office, kept her attention on just the short distance she had to cross and then… slumped sideways into one of the armchairs.

Ridiculous spinning world.

“Aaaah… he… made themselves sick to know how that… is.” After a quick glance around, she nodded: “Now refuses to get well without ‘healing naturally’… we all appreciate their experimentative nature. But. It’s not exactly helpful for anyone right now. Maybe you can bring some sanity back.” She looked somewhat chipper about it.  

At least it cleared up how ‘sick angel of healing’ had happened.

“I wish you a good time, and thank you for the pastries from your last visit, the croissants were divine.” And that was a dismissal. He would be insulted if she had not already announced him.

“Glad to hear it, I’ll see what I can do for you next time.” He waved her off and continued to the usual door. Which might be a bit presumptuous, since Raphael certainly was not… in the usual… office?

When he reached out his hand, the door opened in front of him.

And offered a silver haired woman who swung the door open completely, looked to the floor to not fall over anything and then looked up. She twitched back when she realized the obstacle, blinked several times and still… stared, eyes not actually clearing up.

“Hey, Doc, I heard you were sick. I brought soup.” He lifted the bag he brought.

Her ear twitched and she looked with something like recognition at him: “Asmodeus. That.” She looked from him to the reception desk and back to him: “Amurel did say a priority patient, but you aren’t-” She looked him up and down… and again… and then rubbed her face: “… you’re really here, because you want to be? I’m sick.” She leaned against the doorframe, eyes again unfocused and frowning.

“… yes. That’s why I came here. Like friends do.” Asmodeus raised his brows and put his hands into his pockets. Not going anywhere. “Going to let me in?” She didn’t exactly look like she knew what to do next.

Raphael slowly blinked: “… didn’t let anyone else in.” She huffed and then stepped back and to the side, swaying slighty: “Come on in…  and… walk right through I… just right through… ‘m not staying in the office”

She did generally not look entirely stable. And it might be just a tad impolite to simply waltz into… her living quarters?

Asmodeus moved his hand to the small of her back and led her to the indicated door. And as much as the angel stares back at his hand, shewas less likely to fall over: “If you open the door, we can even avoid that.”

“Your appointments get postponed due to unplanned incidents. If the therapist has a more consistent schedule, the appointments could be guaranteed. One such therapist has an open spot in their schedule right now. And your own schedule has an empty spot as well,” they frowned at the screen, then looked back, “Would this be acceptable?”

“Ah… Raphael is my therapist. Isn’t it a bit… strange to change therapists?” He stopped towelling and hung the cloth around his neck, frown in place.

“It is not regular practice, indeed. Yet in this case it seems prudent. Due to the fact you are in a work relationship with exactly reversed responsibilities, a change is advisable. Especially looking at the missed appointments,” they said, frowning as well.

“… but Raphael is my attending doctor”

They – Amurel, he remembered – looked at him. And tilted their head, continuing: “Truth, he oversees all treatments. But I can assure you that Varrael is a trained professional with even more experience than our chief doctor and – most importantly – a stable schedule. The only question is if you would attend a first session with them or not”

Metatron blinked at her. And again. Then he said: “… well. If you do not think it is a waste of their time?”

Her fingers flew over the tablet, then they grabbed an empty file and smiled: “Very good! The appointment is booked. Please follow me, it isn’t far”

“But…” Metatron stared at the angel moving away. This was… … … very efficient, he supposed. If it did not work out, he could always refuse further treatment. The king of angels followed Amurel to the assigned treatment room.

They opened the door and left him with the words: “The doctor will be with you in a minute”

So, he looked around in the room. It was… less bright and green than the rest of the clinic. It was also warmer. More earthy coloured. Yellows and browns with just a few plants. Healthy ones, though. The furniture looked very… comfortable. Enough pillows and lots of blankets. It was… at least comfortable…?

“Good afternoon, Sir,” a well controlled voice said behind him. Slightly higher than average. As he turned to look, his suspicion of a female corporation was confirmed. Female and with a far darker complexion than himself. Black hair braided, clad in a white labcoat, eyes clear and brown. She sat down in the chair and crossed her legs: “Please, take a seat.” She indicated to a sofa on the other side, watching him attentively.

It’s fulfilling work and I can not actually complain. But sometimes. The chief doctor of the place – he lives in the clinic – has some habits that can’t be ignored anymore. This. Shall be the chronicle of some of these events. Because it might be a good idea to keep track of the newest ‘trend’.

I do not ask him about the newest absurdity presented. The only thing to go on are the things that are left in the kitchen area or in front of his rooms. Or the occasional comment he shares in written or spoken form.

So. It got more absurd on the 21st of June. So that’s as good a starting point as any – it will be chronological and it won’t have a new absurdity every day, but hey. I have to work at one point, too.

2015-06-21

Doctor Israfil walks through the clinic and presents everyone with a ‘green card’ – which literally was a green card… with nothing written on it. He told us – the whole staff - he would now be able to try all the things. That’s why it’s a good starting point, too.

2015-06-22

The staff kitchen was clean. And I mean clean. As in… spotless. The garbage cans sparkled. There was no comment whatsoever. But doc actually visited the kitchen.

2015-06-23

The floors were polished. With actual polish. The floor was appropriately slippery, too. Doc had soft shoes on the whole day. Not sure how he made sliding along the floor look dignified, but he certainly didn’t walk anymore

2015-06-24

Doc looks sad – a patient slipped in the floor. Nothing happened. But the slippery feeling of the floor disappeared again. We could hear him approaching again. No sneaky sliding anymore. Someone at 1.92m height should not be allowed – or able – to sneak.

2015-06-27

The AC was broken. Doc stood in front of the cooling unit and stared. Half an hour later, he stood and stared at the manual. Another hour later he wore a boiler suit instead of a lab coat and the whole unit was in pieces.

2015-06-28

Cooling unit is gone. Vents, too. The house is still significantly cooler than the outside. There is a ventilator in the corner of the waiting room. Everyone just… kind of accepts it.

2015-07-01

There are plants in every single room. Some of them are blue.

2015-07-02

A patient sneezed at a plant. Everything that blooms is gone. Saw the Green Card. It had a stamp. It looked like an unhappy stamp.

2015-07-05

A pond appeared behind the clinic. With stones and plants and general pond-flora. I also saw a spade. Doc shovelled a pond. Over night.

2015-07-08

There are fishes in there. There were many fishes.

2015-07-09

There is another pond. A tree is gone, but there is another pond.

2015-07-25

Doc smells of perfume. This seems normal enough, but he never smells of anything. So now he smelled of perfume. And walked back three times because he first forgot the file. Then came back to apologize that he forgot. And the third time picked it up. Something must have happened.

2015-07-26

Still smells of perfume. Grins like an idiot half the time. Whatever it was, it was… good?

2015-08-01

Doc went away n the middle of the day, came back looking sad. But scribbled the whole time. Also: Wore glasses. He has perfect eyesight. I checked. Why does he wear glasses? Brainy-specs? Did he start to watch television?

2015-08-03

Nothing much weird happened. It’s suspicious.

2015-08-06

Doc netted me the number of the most attractive individual that ever graced these halls. Dude flirted, too. Holy crap. He’s off limits, because patient, but wow. Definitely not against another visit.

2015-08-07

Off limits to Doc, too. But he’s in the best mood he ever was. It’s almost concerning. Treated everyone to ice cream.

2015-08-10

There is cake. In the kitchen. A whole cake. ‘Good appetite’ it says. It’s still warm. It looks like something that got mangled in an accident, … tastes good, though.

2015-08-14

Cake tastes still good, but looks like a proper cake. Everyone starts to look forward to cake.

2015-08-20

You can make cake with carrots. And fish. It’s not sweet. But it’s a cake. It had a warning letter.

2015-08-21

The scribbling he calls ‘writing’ from his sessions got worse again. Or… he replaces words with symbols. There are birds on the pages. Many small birds. I suspect more birds in the house soon enough.

2015-08-30

There are more birds in the house. There is a bluejay. And kingfisher. There aren’t even cages. They seem to be okay with just… staying.

But yes. More birds. And more cake. He knows that cream exists now. And there were four different cinnamon cakes. He possible has a new favourite.

2015-09-08

Had to throw a potential new client out since a guest – they were the taxi for one of the patients -  could not deal with a bit of screaming. Rather annoying. Doc had nothing to do with it, looked unhappy, though.

2015-09-09

There was sand everywhere. He walked through the whole clinic and spread grains of sand. No explanation. Just… sand. And no words at all, actually. Brought him tea.

2015-09-12

There are tea plants in the garden. It’s NOT the right climate for them. They still grow. Somehow. Maybe because it’s such a warm autumn.

2015-09-13

Best cake yet. Had cherries.

2015-09-16