Post by Alvis on Oct 16, 2021 16:28:11 GMT
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Alvis gave his patient a careful smile, hoping that the light glare on the reinforced glass didn't completely obscure the gesture.
"I got nothing."
Randall laughed.
"I suppose it's too late to plead insanity, huh?"
With a final polite wave to his patient, Alvis scanned his keycard to open the door and stepped outside, making sure the door was properly locked behind him. That went well, he thought. Usually, these initial meetings were like a two-hour game of Russian roulette; you put one violent criminal behind a window facing a man hired to ask questions, and it would be foolish to assume nothing would go wrong. That was why Alvis didn't focus on criminal psychology. Though he had ways of dealing with the emotional outbursts of others, he personally did not like exercising such ways on the unwilling unless he absolutely had to. Still, there were some cases that were a little too hard to crack for unpowered employees, and those cases did have to be dealt with, so Alvis didn't complain when he was sent in as their metahuman last resort. At least they usually gave ample warning.
He tucked the laptop into his coat pocket. Though he wouldn't choose typing over physically writing his files, the MMCF had been very clear about... oh, was it a database this time? Something to do with the cloud? Whatever it was, it meant that he had to type his notes whenever he worked here, and return the laptop once he was finished. It made sense, after all. Security in a place like this was a bit of a no-brainer.
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[attr="style","color:#732331;font-size:180%;font-family:'Megrim',sans-serif;text-align:left;display:inline;float:left;"]Miami Metahuman Corrections Facility
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[attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"Well, if there are no further issues, I suppose we can end this here."
Alvis gave his patient a careful smile, hoping that the light glare on the reinforced glass didn't completely obscure the gesture.
"I got nothing."
[attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"Right."
The doctor stood up, tucking the steel chair back under the desk, [attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"I must thank you for co-operating, Mr Randall. It shows strength- more strength than you may realise."
Randall laughed.
"I suppose it's too late to plead insanity, huh?"
[attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"It wouldn't have worked in the first place, I'm afraid."
He returned the laugh with a soundless chuckle of his own, [attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"Of all the psychiatrists employed by this facility, you were unlucky enough to be assigned the one who can read minds."
With a final polite wave to his patient, Alvis scanned his keycard to open the door and stepped outside, making sure the door was properly locked behind him. That went well, he thought. Usually, these initial meetings were like a two-hour game of Russian roulette; you put one violent criminal behind a window facing a man hired to ask questions, and it would be foolish to assume nothing would go wrong. That was why Alvis didn't focus on criminal psychology. Though he had ways of dealing with the emotional outbursts of others, he personally did not like exercising such ways on the unwilling unless he absolutely had to. Still, there were some cases that were a little too hard to crack for unpowered employees, and those cases did have to be dealt with, so Alvis didn't complain when he was sent in as their metahuman last resort. At least they usually gave ample warning.
He tucked the laptop into his coat pocket. Though he wouldn't choose typing over physically writing his files, the MMCF had been very clear about... oh, was it a database this time? Something to do with the cloud? Whatever it was, it meant that he had to type his notes whenever he worked here, and return the laptop once he was finished. It made sense, after all. Security in a place like this was a bit of a no-brainer.