Doctor Fiona Slaughter is one of the few brightspots in the rain soaked nightmare that is Duskhollow. Everything about her is round and friendly down to the bouncy blond curls that sit above her focused (if exhausted) green eyes.
She's frantically sifting through papers as Ronin enters her office.
"Ah! Yes! I've been getting word of you ever since last night,... " ``She squints down at the paper on top.```. "...Wyatt! Terribly sorry to leave you waiting all night as you needed me after hours, but "put your own mask on first", as they say! Please, have a seat!"
-Good ol' Doc Slaughter. Presumably the only fucking therapist under the PD-- well, no, I'm pretty sure the only therapist in all of Duskhollow.
-And busy enough to not notice she keeps getting visited by the same bloke with a letter shifted forward every time.
"Wyatt. Fine, sure. Let's go with that."
-I go to take a seat, keeping a steely gaze onto the Good Doctor.
"So what time waster are we doing this time?"
Doc Slaughter claps her hands and grins brightly at the officer in need in front of her.
"I thought we could do a little 'getting to know you' exercise! Outline your needs in the therapeutic process, and keep both our expectations clear!"
She glances quickly down at her papers, clearly trying hard to seem like she has enough hours in the day to memorize each and every one of her patients.
"So you're here after a particularly challenging case, right? How would you describe it?"
-How many times have we 'gotten to know' each other, Doc?
"Like it fucking matters how I describe the case. It's not my case, it's theirs."
Doc Slaughter dutifully writes a few things down in her little notebook.
"So you feel a lack of ownership in your team's cases? Do you think it relates to how new you are to the force? It says here you joined..."
She makes a big show of checking, as if this was the first time she has had to refer to the paperwork.
"Oh! Just a few days ago! I'm very sorry you got such a rough case so early on!"
-Oh, yeah, sure. Just joined a few days ago. Let's say that.
Watt's hand grips the armchair."Hmm. Yeah. Condolences taken, whatever. I'm sure the other guy would really appreciate hearing that, or something."
Doc Slaughter blinks and rallies her perpetual good cheer.
"Ah, condolences, right, it must be so hard to join the force right after we had such a very visceral loss of an up-and-coming team. How does it feel to be filling their shoes?"
"Filling their shoes, Doc? This town is nothing but people filling other people's shoes. Current team's just some poor fuckers the chief dragged in. Previous team, most likely not any different. Same for the one before it. This place doesn't exactly make veterans."
Watt leans forward.
"No one works for the PD because they want to, Doc. There are cops in Duskhollow because there need to be. You should know that, out of anyone."
Doc Slaughter's smile stretches just a tick wider and her eyes widen just a bit but otherwise she plows forward with good cheer.
"Yes, there has been a lot of crunch time lately, hasn't there been? Real lack of staff to spread the burden around. I wish there was something I could do to help with that, Wyatt, but my talents lie elsewhere. Let's work together to see how we can help you carry your share of the burden as painlessly as possible, yes? Now, what I'm hearing is you sound burnt out on how you're currently approaching this burden? Would you say that's an accurate assessment?"
“Fucking...”
-I hate this. I hate this so much. It literally never gets any better.
“Sure. I’m ‘burnt out’.”
Doc Slaughter's smile takes on a more genuine shade.
"Luckily you're in the exact right place to get the help you need! I work with police burn out at every stage, even among Rookies like yourself! What we'll do is go through a short questionnaire and see how we can best address the burn out, alright?"
-Like it matters. That other guy can’t reboot any slower.
“Mhm. Hit me.”
Doc Slaughter pulls out a worksheet and begins reading off it silently, muttering to herself to see which questions have already been answered just during the initial section...
"Ah yes, would you say you feel threatened when strangers approach you?"
Watt lays back again, head tilting as he tries to remember what the answers for Wyatt tend to be.
-Fuck. Local copy’s not accessible. God damn it, you. Stop panicking. Or I guess. Uh. Keep panicking. Whatever works.
-Guess I’m filling this one myself again. Indulge the thought of being a ‘real person’, or whatever.
“Yes.”
Doc Slaughter ticks a box and smiles brighter.
"It's a common enough response to burn out, you're not alone there Wyatt! Without breaking confidentiality, I would say nearly 80% of the officers I work with share that fear!"
She glances down at her worksheet again and reads off the next question.
"Would you say you're feeling like you can make a real difference in the cases you're given? Setting aside issues of ownership, of course."
-Well, yeah, of course. But I also... keep exploding?
-Huh.
Watt shrugs.
"Now, Wyatt. I know that this is sort of being forced on you. But we can't make progress, we can't make things easier to bear, unless you work with me here, alright? Can you give me a yes or a no? Or would you prefer to try a different exercise?"
Watt frowns.
"I gave you an answer. Don't fucking get at me for being honest."
Doc Slaughter raises both hands in a gesture of defeat.
"I'll put down a question mark then, I apologize for assuming a shrug meant you refused to answer rather than meaning "none of the above". Do you want to keep going with the questionnaires? Or we could try a more flexible-friendly approach?"
He lets out a sigh, deflating back into his chair with a mechanical strain.
"It doesn't matter. None of this matters. I'm going to fill out this stupid questionnaire for an idiot who isn't here and doesn't even know I exist. Then, he's going to fuck off, and I'll be back in there, and then, by the end of the day, we'll both be dead, until we're not."
Doc Slaughter looks confused in an almost caricature of cheer.
"Why don't we talk about that then? Could you expand on that? I'm not sure what you mean about filling the questionnaire out for someone else?"
"This is what I mean. Tell me. Does my 'name' sound familiar to you, at all?"
Doc Slaughter blinks slowly, her tired mind absolutely failing to connect any dots.
"I get a lot of patients, Wyatt, I really am sorry if I've treated any of your relatives but I simply can't remember them all these days..."
"And there it is."
Watt almost smiles, kind of. His furrowed brow does not lighten.
"This case is a dead-end. This job is a dead-end. Fake. It's like this whole town is fake, you know? I thought we were the only ones pretending, but no, everyone's pretending. Those two fuckers clearly just got on the job, I'm technically new to the force, if we want to keep going with that trademarked Duskhollow thin veil of bullshit. And at the end, no one remembers anything, I guess. So yeah, maybe we deserve the case we got, with these stupid cult people."
Doc Slaughter raises a hand, palm out.
"I'll have to stop you there Wyatt, confidentiality laws mean I can't actually be aware of the details of any of your cases. Why don't we focus on your feeling that this town is fake? What do you mean by that?"
"So you know the case is challenging after like a day, but you're not allowed to know anything about it. Yeah, sure."
-Fuck this town. Fuck this everything so much.
"I already told you. Everyone's pretending at something."
Doc Slaughter *almost* allows herself a frown, but at the last second the constant smile wins out.
"I'm told broadly what brought you here, Wyatt, and how long you've been waiting. That's it. No privacy violations at all, Therapists Honor. "
She flashes a winning grin, as if she's letting Watt in on some secret, just between the two of them.
"I think everyone feels like a pretender, like an impostor sometimes, Wyatt. Even now I sometimes worry people will realize therapy is just trying things out and seeing what works."
“That’s not what I...”
Watt harumphs in defeat, fingers gripping the shape of the armchair into an indent. He digs deep into himself for that monotonous-sounding tone:
“Yes, Doc, you are right. We understand that most people are insecure to an extent, and what bothers me is something that happens to everyone. I understand I should not worry about this, for most people do not know what they are doing, and that is okay.”
Doc Slaughter tries on a gentle smile, and decides it fits the mood.
"Wyatt, I really do appreciate you at least trying out the lip service. I promise: it will feel more true the more you practice it. Now, let's move on to the nitty gritty: what plan can we put in place to avoid future outbursts. "
Tellingly, she doesn't need to sureptitiously check her notes for this one, it obviously stood out.
"I understand you...set fire to the kitchen belonging to a lead you were pursuing? What emotions were you feeling right before the fire?"
-Rage... I suppose the other one was feeling stress, before--
-FUCK.
Watt's eyes go wide as the reboot mechanism does its work, throwing him limp on the chair for a few seconds. Then, as quickly as it happened, the part that is INFINITELY MORE AWARE OF THE WEIRD SOCIALS OF THE SITUATION takes the helm once again."Hm? Oh, hello! I, uh, seems I have the wrong office?"
Wyatt laughs awkwardly.
"I, should, uh, leave, thank you for your time?"
Doc Slaughter straightens some of her papers as she thinks.
"Well, you HAVE met the bare minimum time for your session. If... if you're no longer feeling comfortable... Yes, of course, you're free to go Wyatt. I hope you feel better."
She offers her hand for a shake.
"Session? Uh..."
Wyatt scratches his head.
"I'm sorry, I don't think I... uh... remember?"
Wyatt goes to shake with both hands, shooting an apologetic look. Darn, he can't believe he forgot... whatever this is?
Doc Slaughter smiles reassuringly while trying not to let her brow crease with worry. She gently shakes his hands.
"It's okay, Wyatt. Therapy can be very...intense for the first time. Just make sure you gets some rest after your shift, okay? Thank you for joining me."
“I, uh, therapy? Sure, I’ll get rest. Thank you, uh, very much!”