Claustrophilia

[Colorful Catharsis]

Thomas paced impatiently within the white walls of his cell. He wanted facts...documents. Proof that he should be in the Pennhurst Asylum. His pale blue eyes were tired...gray in comparison to their original vigor and life. This place...it drained him. Made him less of a man and more of a caged animal. The trial was short...quick. They'd labeled him as criminally insane, for the killing of his own wife and child. The blonde shook his head. That was impossible...crazy. He refused to believe it. Thomas slid against the pristine white wall to the ground and sat there...watching...waiting for something. Anything. It was this place that drove him crazy. Nothing else.

[Olli-Pop]

Dr. Rowan Renard glared at the paperwork on his desk. Why had they decided to send him possibly the most insane being in the asylum? He thought the man's previous psychiatrist was being ridiculous. Greyson should not be feared, especially when the psychiatrists and doctors had the ability to have him sedated. It was foolish to drop him, and now Dr.Renard was going to suffer for it. It wasn't like he was getting a raise because of it, either!

"Send me Greyson, I'm ready to see him," he said monotonely into the phone, speaking to the head guard. "Do please have sedatives at the ready, just in case."

[Colorful Catharsis]

Thomas looked up as the nurses began unlocking his cell door. He immediately stood up as a result, but was quickly told to stand down. He obeyed quietly, though with a sour scowl. He didn't take kindly to being treated like a caged animal.

With some instruction and a lot of impatience Thomas was lead down the clean, white halls of the mental facility down to the office of a man the blonde didn't quite know yet. His gentle strawberry blonde hair and small glasses said something of intelligence, but his face seemed to express the same amount of exasperation as Thomas had for the situation.

[Olli-Pop]

"Hello, Mr.Greyson. Please have a seat," he said softly, and moved down into his own seat. Luckily, he made sure the seats the patients sat in were actually nice. And cushy. Regardless, Dr.Renard folded his hands on his desk as he stared at Thomas with his slate eyes. Hm, what to do about this one?

Well, there were a lot of things, but...Curses, the shade of blonde was just too similar to Ferdinand's. And those eyes...Not quite the same shade as blue, but blue eyes are blue eyes. Dr.Renard forced back a sneer, and continued to scrutinize Thomas. "...So, let's pretend I don't know why you're here. Why are you in an Asylum, Mr.Greyson? Why was your previous psychiatrist too much of a coward to deal with you? Hm?" he asked, after adjusting his glasses.

[Colorful Catharsis]

Thomas leaned his head to the side quietly, combing his fingers through his sandy blonde hair.

"It might have been the first time I strangled him with the phone cord when I asked for my lawyer..." he muttered, and directed his attention to the doctor. "Or the second time when I stuck him with his own sedative." He finished.

"But...I'm here because I've been accused of killing my own wife and child." he said. "Do need to know my favorite color as well?" he asked with some exasperation.

[Olli-Pop]

Oh, isn't he an interesting one, Dr.Renard thought dully, and started looking over Thomas's previous records. At least, the blonde didn't seem even to have the energy to do anything to anything to him. Shame, really. No reason to use the sedatives...Maybe some other time. "You might as well tell me, Mr.Greyson," he said monotonically. Quite frankly, Rowan didn't feel like dealing with crazies today, but it was his job.

"But, you say accused. Are you implying you didn't? I assure you, Mr.Greyson, you did. The DNA is there, as well as many over evidence. Regardless, dead is dead, no matter how it happens," he spoke as he begun looking over the trial papers.

[Colorful Catharsis]

Thomas gaze crew increasingly colder with each word the man spoke.

"I didn't kill them. They've been dead a long while." he said. "Years."

The blonde glared quietly. Already he was displeased with this doctor. His bored gaze said something of disinterest...and that made Thomas feel unimportant. That wouldn't do. He demanded respect.

"DNA can be forged. And I can understand why they would want to. My father is an oil tycoon. Perhaps some noisy environmentalist wanted to throw a man in to a mental facility. Surely this happens frequently." he said, neatly crossing his legs, and smoothing out his pants legs.

[Olli-Pop]

Dr.Renard raised a thick styled eyebrow as he looked at Thomas. "I can assure you, it doesn't happen often," he said, shaking head. He lowered his glasses from his eyes to rub them clean. "Do you like gifts, or rewards, Mr.Greyson?" he asked, and slipped his frames back on.

"I believe we can arrange a sort of give and take. I need you to actually talk," unfortunately. "In the return, you can have certain items given to you while you're here or while I'm observing you in isolation." He leaned back in his leather chair, eying Thomas a blank, but slightly incline expression. "Will you agree?"

[Colorful Catharsis]

Thomas scowled lightly at the man. Did he think he could simply give the man treats in exchange for information? Then again...the blonde wanted for a few things. Mainly a shaving razor to keep his face clean of stubble. He wasn't about to grow a beard anytime soon. And definitely not in this place. He paused.

"...like what?" he asked, wishing for specifics. Could he get a change of clothes this way? Maybe a hairbrush to tame his curly locks...

[Olli-Pop]

Rowan remained silent for a moment, thinking. What could he allow? Well, probably simple things obviously. But he didn't even know what this man would want. "I don't know what you'd want," he said, and cupped his cheek in his hand. He gazed pass Thomas at one of the plants.

"Probably simple stuff though, that I doubt you'd actual do anything with. It would mean I would have to spend more time with you, watching you and making sure you don't have an episode with your new items," he spoke, mostly just thinking aloud.

[Colorful Catharsis]

"I want a change of clothes. One of my own. From my apartment. I'm sure you can have that arranged." Thomas immediately ordered. He couldn't stand the scratchy garments that they had issued him upon entry to the facility. They were plain....cheaply woven white fabrics that smelled faintly of bleach. He couldn't stand them...

"...now what do you want to know...?" he asked. He frowned. He felt he submitted to easily to this. So ready took the treat for the trick. Regardless, it was worth a shot. If he could get the simple comforts of clothing and looking respectable again, it might make this place a little more bearable.

[Olli-Pop]

That was simple enough. He figured it wouldn't be dangerous either, since they wore clothes anyways. Why the patients weren't allowed their own clothes, Rowan wasn't sure. He ran a hand through his hair, and nodded. "Yes, I can get that arranged," he said, and chose a moment to study Thomas again. He couldn't help but wondered what he looked like as a child. Did his patient look similar to Ferdinand?

"...Let's keep it simple for now. How things while you still had a family. If you'd rather not talk about it, then just tell me things you like and things you don't. People you admire, et cetera," he spoke a bit more dully than before. "Maybe things you'd want in the future."

[Colorful Catharsis]

He didn't feel like talking about his family. Not to this man. Not yet. He didn't deserve that information. In the meantime...until he got what he wanted, he'd give him useless little tidbits. Little things he couldn't use to evaluate and pick at him. He closed his eyes a moment.

"I like the color cobalt blue. I wear it well. My father is Samuel L. Greyson, of Greyson Petroleum and Oil. I wear reading glasses and my favorite food is peach cobbler. Anything else?" he asked, his gaze obviously bored. He wanted his clothes...

[Olli-Pop]

Rowan's hand grazed down his face, and he stared at Thomas. "That's great, and all, Mr. Southern, but I need more important things. You don't think you're earning clothes by just telling me stuff like that, do you?" he asked, and shook his head. "Okay, no family stuff. Tell me about your schooling. Your social life as a child and a teenager. If you actually want things, and want to get out of here, you're gonna have to deal with me being nosy. Judging you is a part of my job; pampering you, is not. You may hate me some days, but keep in mind, I'm your key to get out of here. I'm your key to getting things to making your stay nicer. Love or hate me, that's just the way it is."

And then Rowan was confused. Why had he decided to talk so much? Talk about out of character. He yawned and leaned back into his chair, his bored face returning. He figured he knew what was going on. He wanted to see this man get out, 'cause of the similarities to Ferdinand. Ferdinand had liked peaches too.

[Colorful Catharsis]

"Then be more specific about what you want." he said with a scowl. He understood what being here was about, he wasn't stupid. But he also knew he didn't belong here. And if he was going to stay here...it better be comfortably.

"...I was apparently a terror when I was younger. A bully. I was eventually home schooled as a result." he explained. "That was after treatment did nothing. It only proved to make me more hostile towards other children." he continued quietly.

[Olli-Pop]

Well, that was something. Ferdinand was a sweet child, so it was a good contrast that Thomas was really, Tommy the Terrible. He nodded, and pushed his glasses upward. They slide over his hair, and remained placed on top of his head. "What had the treatment been?" he asked, and paused. "Why do you think you were a little terror?"

[Colorful Catharsis]

Thomas seemed uncomfortable mentioning the specific treatment. But dammit he wanted a decent change of clothes. Besides...he'd probably never meet this man again after this...

"E...Electroshock Therapy. It was still experimental at the time...and didn't have many doctors experienced in it. Instead they had students working the machinery. Which...tended to lead in misuse." he explained. "They gave me the therapy because they said I had a fair number of mental problems...mostly anti-social disorders. Their solution was apparently to fry me. After that, a bit of OCD developed as a result, a side affect of the treatment being short term memory loss." Thomas sighed, trying to assume his bored expression again.

"Is that enough?" he asked, visibly uncomfortable.

[Olli-Pop]

Dr.Renard frowned. It would seem he would have to check into that situation. They hadn't even known how to use it, and yet, did it anyways? This was why he lost hope in much of the medical industry. Thomas was looking uncomfortable, anyways. He should probably stop, seeing as he got information that Thomas probably didn't give out lightly.

"I just need to know what'd you like for telling me this. I'll do my best, and give it to you tomorrow morning during out session," he spoke, and lowered his glasses. He began to write on his clipboard.

[Colorful Catharsis]

"Just a regular change of clothes...a clean dress shirt would be nice. A pair of jeans. That's all." he said, his expression lightening slightly, seeing that he'd accomplished what he'd wanted. He was well finished with this meeting anyway. He'd simply sit in his cell, and think. That's all he'd done since being here. And it's what he'd continue to do.

[Olli-Pop]

Dr.Renard stood up and brushed off his coat, even though there wasn't think about it. "Alright. Let me escort you back, while you tell me what sizes you believe you'll need...Keep in mind, you've lost some weight during your stay here, Mr.Greyson," he said, and walked to the door. He held it open while waiting for Thomas.

Of course, the guards would follow them, regardless.

[Colorful Catharsis]

Thomas seemed pleasant about this, even offered a smile. The effect lightened his features, and softened his already gentle blue eyes. He grabbed the nearest piece of paper quickly, and wrote down his measurements.

"Thank you doctor." he said. "When will I see you again?" he asked.

[Olli-Pop]

"Probably when I drop off your clothes...But our next session will be in a week," he said, "Although, I might drop by earlier...since being in isolation too long seems to, ah, effect your mental state." He walked near the man, slightly behind him, and roughly three feet between them. Quietly, they reached the door that lead into Thomas's room.

"I will see you soon, Mr.Greyson."

[Colorful Catharsis]

Thomas nodded, standing and being escorted out of the room by the nurses.

He was returned to his cell, quietly. The blond leaned against the cell wall...waiting, watching. This could be a beneficial thing if the doctor would continue to cooperate with him. This was a simple deal...and Thomas could abide by it.

[Olli-Pop]

A day passed. Then two, then three, then four, then five. Eventually, it had been seven days. Seven days went by that Dr.Renard did not visit Thomas to give him his clothes. It was time for their session as well. The guards lead Thomas to Rowen's room, while the doctor prepared for a visit.

Dr.Renard ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. He had not gotten the free time to visit Thomas, since he was dealing with a new patient named..something- 'Koop. He was a native american man, that seem to hallucinate about being in different worlds, and fucking everything up. He was a handful. He didn't feel bad about not visiting Thomas though. The world didn't revolve around the blonde.

[Colorful Catharsis]

Thomas was not doing well. Not by the least. He'd been promised a visit earlier in the week, along with a fresh, comfortable change of clothes. What he'd gotten was abandonment and scratchy hospital clothing. Not to mention at least sedatives due to combative behavior.

Though it wasn't entirely his fault...he was hallucinating. Despite his various complaints that he couldn't be alone, the nurses kept informing him that he was in careful isolation, and that it was best for him. After the second sedation, he was placed in a jacket and forced to stare at the wall hatefully, scorning the man who'd promised him some comfort and not delivered.

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