#drabelgideon

Alana leaned forward in her seat, reaching her hand across the distance between them, squeezing his knee gently, encouraging him with a slight smile. As he spoke, that smile faded and she pulled back, not quiet able to fully process what he had just told her. She was silent as she thought about it, turned it over and over in her mind, examining it from different angles. She tried not to think about it clinically. This was her friend, not a patient and she dearly hoped that she would never be in that position with him in the future.

Continued from x

shit i say — sentence starters || @dr-abel-gideon

@dr-abel-gideon

Things had gone so downhill, so fast. An attempt to take back the town from Harry, Lexie, Campbell and the guard had gone horribly wrong, and now some people were hurt, some were dead, and Helena was running out of options. Even with her gun, she wasn’t sure she could handle this on her own.

first date sentences || @dr-abel-gideon

@dr-abel-gideon

Alana had been mulling over her interactions with Abel over the past few months. As the days had passed and they had spoken more, she had felt a growing anxiousness rising from her gut and lodging itself in her chest, in her heart. She had tried to deny that there was a problem, that there was something haunting him but denial only lasted so long before it would slide into calm acceptance. He had a problem and she had to do whatever she could to fix it. I can’t just sit here and do nothing. Alana wasn’t going to close her eyes and turn away from him. She’d seen it happen to many times before with devastating consequences. 

She had called Abel’s office and had left a message, telling him to come to her house after work. He was probably going to be tired after surgery and that was exactly why Alana had chosen that particular day. It was calculating but her logic was sound; unless incredibly skilled, it became difficult to lie when tired. It was a chilling fact that interrogators used sleep deprivation for that very reason. 

Alana was pacing in her office, wringing her hands together, sure that she was about to wear a hole into the carpet, waiting for that knock on the door that would signal his arrival. A delivery man had disturbed her about 45 minutes earlier and she had practically leapt at the door, tearing it open and startling the poor driver. She had forgotten that she had ordered Criminal Psychology Nature, Nurture, Culture. She snatched the package from the delivery driver, mumbled a quick thanks and then snapped the door shut in his face. She had barely looked at the book, abandoning it on her desk and resuming her fretful pacing. Her body was reacting as though there was something horribly, horribly wrong and it was unsettling her on a mental, spiritual and physical level.