Post by Dr. Josephine Hudson on Aug 27, 2010 11:20:02 GMT
Jo was breaking two parts of her routine that day. The first was that she had not had her lunch at the proper time - instead, she'd searched for Francesca, and talked to her, and cried, which was not in her routine. The second part was that she wasn't sitting beneath her desk before the start of her session, with a mug of hot chocolate. She was sitting at her desk, with a file in front of her, and trying her best not to throw things.
She watched the clock on her phone tick by, getting more and more anxious with every passing minutes. No. That wasn't the right word. Anxious? More like completely pissed-off, which was a new one for her. She rarely got angry, unless she had good reason for it.
Her patients being tortured was a good reason, she decided. Wait, no. That wasn't right. She would be perfectly happy with Morph being tortured. If it wasn't for certain laws - and her doubts about her abilities to attack him - she'd be getting out the red-hot pokers then. No, she just had problems with her sexually abused patients being kiss-raped. And God knows what else would have happened if Peter hadn't stopped it when he did.
It was twenty minutes before the door opened. Jo looked down at her desk, checking there were no heavy objects within her reach (she'd get told off if she threw things at Morph) and realized that she'd been shredding the edges of his file as she waited. That was three parts of her routine that had been disrupted that day - he was twenty minutes late. As soon as he entered the door, she opened her mouth to begin her speech on how he was an evil, disgusting, sick bastard - and found that she began crying. She glared at him as he entered, wiping her eyes on the edge of a tissue that she'd grabbed from beneath her desk. She pictured the scene Peter had described in the common room; him pushing Francesca - the tiny, delicate little girl - down into a chair, twisting her wrists and trying to make her talk, before kissing her. Bastard.
She watched the clock on her phone tick by, getting more and more anxious with every passing minutes. No. That wasn't the right word. Anxious? More like completely pissed-off, which was a new one for her. She rarely got angry, unless she had good reason for it.
Her patients being tortured was a good reason, she decided. Wait, no. That wasn't right. She would be perfectly happy with Morph being tortured. If it wasn't for certain laws - and her doubts about her abilities to attack him - she'd be getting out the red-hot pokers then. No, she just had problems with her sexually abused patients being kiss-raped. And God knows what else would have happened if Peter hadn't stopped it when he did.
It was twenty minutes before the door opened. Jo looked down at her desk, checking there were no heavy objects within her reach (she'd get told off if she threw things at Morph) and realized that she'd been shredding the edges of his file as she waited. That was three parts of her routine that had been disrupted that day - he was twenty minutes late. As soon as he entered the door, she opened her mouth to begin her speech on how he was an evil, disgusting, sick bastard - and found that she began crying. She glared at him as he entered, wiping her eyes on the edge of a tissue that she'd grabbed from beneath her desk. She pictured the scene Peter had described in the common room; him pushing Francesca - the tiny, delicate little girl - down into a chair, twisting her wrists and trying to make her talk, before kissing her. Bastard.