Invisibility;

He couldn’t help but laugh, “Dunnae worry about it, I’ve no interest in doing any of that to you and I highly doubt you’d ever piss me off like that,” 

I-I mean I'll still try not to. I don't like making people angry in general, never mind people who share traits with chess-losing Wookies. Erm ... odd ... things ... aside ... what are some ... good qualities about this place then? Or hobbies ... something ...

I won’t, he brought it on himself, picked a fight with me. 

I-I'll remember that. Not to pick fight with people ... with you. I-I like my arms. Uh ... and my ears. Y-yeah ...

They do that so they make sure it’s someone you’re comfortable with, rather than forcin’ whatever daft idiot signed up just to add another patient count, so they’ll treat you like a human and no’ just another number. Believe me, you wanna chose, other places just takes everything away from you.

I'm going to rot here forever ... though I did this to myself. Whatever, right?

*shrugs* Well I’m Dahlia.

No’ really, I like this place over the other hell holes they’ve sent me before, despite how stupid they are, the doctors do care if you talk to them, the others at other places just focused on how locked up they could keep me, rather than helpin’, you’re treated like a human here and not a monster.

I've met maybe ... one doctor. Caring is a rough word to say, considering the whole choose your own thing. I want to make sure it's someone whose here for the purpose of helping, rather than someone whose just trying to get paid. The therapy I need, as I was explained, is rather rigorous and takes someone who actually ... I'm rambling. Sorry.

Roommates suck so your lucky.

I suppose. I don't really have a template to compare to. 

I just transferred back, I was here for a year bu’, stuff happened and they shipped me off for awhile. I don’ see a change in anything to be honest since I was here. I’m Mor’du by the way. Martin Mor’du, but I don’t go by my first name.

I have no template for comparison. I've only been here a month, maybe. Not a whole lot's happened, either. But if you say it's still the same, who am I to think otherwise? I'm Kara. So ... is being back here a bad thing? I mean, some people seem not to mind it too much.

It's ... boring. Not the image I had of an asylum when I was admitted. Not at all.

You should make them run their hands under hot water first, have it prepared so it’s the first thing they can do and there’s no complaint that it’s too much trouble to what they already do. At least, and that’s a ridiculous amount. Why do you need them so frequently? What exactly counts as strenuous? 

I should. I don't think they would exactly listen to me, though. I mean ... if they were open to suggestions I don't think I'd really have room to complain right now. Oh. I have a thing, I've had it for a while. It's nothing too bad, just need to get it looked at regularly. Uhm ... anything, really. Like ... physical exertion. Gym sports and stuff, or most physical contact that might be considered somewhat dangerous. Kind of a pain but whatever.

You’d think if they were constantly giving you checkups be a little kinder or at least warm up to you after a little while. What can you expect in this place though? It’s like each day the veil of efficiency is removed film by film. You get physicals everyday? That’s a lot a of physicals too many days of the week. 

That was kind of my thought process. They have cold hands, too. If you're going to be touching me in some way, shape, or form you could at least rub them together or something. Alas, no they keep touching me with cold and uncaring hands. I do get physicals every day. Sometimes twice if I do anything considered strenuous. It's at least 365 physicals. If not more.

Not really ... helpful when there are people here that require their help to like ... live? I mean, I was specifically told I have to go down there at least once a day. They always make me wait. They're always so frigid about it.

He laughed, “Plus I think I’ve played Piano Man a thousand times in this place, the piano might just be used to it by now,” he grinned, “Most of the French Philosophy section actually, and another with something to do with drawings of naked people. I can’t really read any of it so I just amuse myself with the author pictures and covers and stuff,”

"Muscle memory, then. They say that even if you stopped playing it now and went back to a piano in twenty years muscle memory would have you remembering it shortly after you started up again. I don't know if it's true but ... interesting right?" A small chuckle left her lips, "Something against the French? Ah, it's all bullshit anyway. There are better things to spend your time doing. Better pictures to look at."

"You dont’ gotta think too much on it you just gotta…do, I dunno, relax, sit down, let your fingers do the talking," Dodger explained, "Then it’s just like," he reached over and played the first notes of Piano Man, "boom, music." he laughed, "Man, I can’t draw a stick figure, I can draw moustaches on fancy French authors in the library. Now THAT’S talent, drawing is."

"There's got to be a problem like ... in my head with that. Easy for you, but you make it look effortless. Look at that ..." Dark eyes watched his fingers roam about the keys as he punched out the first few notes of the familiar tune. "Mustaches ... good ones? I want to see. Which books have you sketched on? It's just a hobby, nothing super serious for me. It fills the time, you know?"