#day pass

"Thank you, Edward. This is very nice of you."

I put a hand on top of my nervous friend's hand to stop his babbling.

"Jervis, it is not a problem to take you out for lunch. Here we are."

Jervis would have been fine getting a drive-through at McDonald's, but I wasn't. And I wasn't about to treat one of the first people that I had empathized with in my therapy group like he wasn't worth something special.

Pulling into a parking spot beside the restaurant, I opened Jervis's door and guided him to our table, a hand at his back and thought about how we had met.

Therapy in Arkham Asylum is a hit or miss affair. It doesn't do to get too attached to one therapist. They frequently change therapists to avoid that and its resulting…complications. And the turnover rate with good therapists is ridiculously high. Some, I thought sourly, I only wished had a high turnover rate. After years of Dr. Crane and Dr. Strange failing to get the desired results from me as a patient, Dr. Arkham himself decided to see what was wrong with my surly ass. Years of "therapy" with Crane's drug enhanced exposure therapy to treat my trauma and Strange's odd biofeedback that only seemed to worsen my obsessiveness had me being an extremely paranoid boy with some paredolia on the side of my other issues. Meeting with the good doctor for therapy hadn't been a high point in my plans. But, well, as a patient in Arkham I hadn't had much of a choice. So, imagine my surprise to find a good old fashioned group therapy session with no terror or mindfuckery. And that was where I met Jervis. Not quite a case of like minds meeting, but what I imagine what it must feel like for a piano virtuoso to meet an expert sculptor. Just an admiration and appreciation for the other person's skills.

We had been friends ever since.

What? You expected me to be humble? I was mentally unstable, not mentally deficient. And for all his quiet self-effacing tendencies, once Jervis started talking about his technical expertise or any of his passionate interests, there was a brilliant mind waiting to be discovered. 

Disturbed, obsessive, socially awkward, but brilliant.

Jervis fidgeted with his light hair, looking uncomfortable in the borrowed button up and dress pants from the asylum laundry. I noticed they had not given him a hat. Part of me hurt for my friend, knowing he identified so much with his accessory. And the rest of me realized the wisdom of not overly indulging his fixation, for everybody's well being. Especially Jervis himself.

But, like with my puzzle ring, sometimes it was important to scratch that itch. To find ways of being yourself without giving in to the madness.

Like a tea party, perhaps?

But not the crumpets and tea cake sort. That might be a little too tempting for Jervis. But I thought this restaurant might just do the trick.

"Do you want to order, or do you want me to?" I asked, remembering just how overwhelming simple decisions could be sometimes.

"If you don't mind. Please." Jervis said.

The waiter came over with a smile. "Welcome to Qnia. Are you ready to order?"

"We are. Can we get two orders of the moroccan mint tea, and then we are splitting an order of chicken tagine with couscous, zaalouk on the side. And two pistachio croissants to finish the meal."

"Of course. I'll bring your tea out in just a minute."

"Tea?" Jervis perked, a slightly too enthusiastic gleam in his eyes.

"Yes, it should go very nicely with the food." I told him.

The food came promptly, and we talked about music, art, and science rather than books or movies. 

I paid the check as we finished the last of our dessert, listening to Jervis tell me about a recent scientific study about using specific tones and frequencies to help subliminally curb addictions and its results. He still was his meek, polite self, but with a confidence he normally only got when fully delusional.

As I pulled out to drive back, I made a mental note of the restaurant.

It had been a lovely place to treat Jervis to a tea party. We would have to do it again.

Am actually working on some of fics in progress (Day Pass, Trade Secrets, Ghoulies And Ghosties, random writing for NaNoWriMo)

So not just plot bunnies I am releasing into the wild, but thoughts actively being typed up. Answers are useful.

What are popular Gotham street foods? - Trade Secrets

What songs do the Batfam sing at karaoke? -Ghoulies And Ghosties, NaNoWriMo

Day 169: Resort Pass

We love to travel. Even more, we love a good staycation. And since we live in the woods, we try to staycation to nearby resorts and beaches.

This has been so easy and convenient with Resort Pass.

With the RP, we get full access to pools, spas, hot tubs, gyms, and more.

I have a $20 off code just for you! Here it is.

"You take me to the nicest places, Edward."

"I think both of us have therapeutic restrictions that mean I am not allowed to take you to the nicest places."

Not that we didn't go to museums, but taking two kleptomaniacs with extensive psychiatric baggage and putting them around all the shiny objects seemed like a less than prudent idea.

I checked to make sure I had the directions right and kept walking down the street past two more closed stores, a used bookstore, and a McDonalds.

Amused, Selina kept stride with me, walking against the flow of the crowd.

"Did you forget there was a Knights game today?"

I scowled "Large groups of people walking the opposite way from where you are going is not always a good sign. Especially in Gotham. And I'm looking for the address."

The little coffeehouse was new enough I was not sure that they even had a sign up yet, so I had been looking for addresses on our block and a half walk due to extremely limited parking.

I held the door open, hoping Selina, who seemed to know every new business that opened in Gotham, had not already been in yet.

Although, given her teasing on the way, I thought maybe I had managed to pull off the surprise. 

We ordered, and were led from the ordering area into the coffeehouse.

And I saw Selina gasp as an inquisitive calico peered at her around the corner of a wooden cat tree in the corner.

She looked around in delight, as she took in the cats, sleeping in beds, walking among tables, and climbing around the cat beds.

I looked down at a small orange kitten with a green collar that was pawing my leg and lifted them up to scratch their ears.

"So do you mind missing the Knights game?" I asked Selina.

Selina smiled as the cat she was holding began to purr and rub its chin on her arm.

"What game?"