(Finally got the time off, tis the season to get bogged down in bullshit before finally being released.)
>>5500394>>5500399>>5500438Not the most encouraging situation, to be honest. You look at her with a mixture of confusion and distrust. Was this the best Mom could do for a recommendation? As far as you know, this woman might as well want to put Meryl in a fishbowl. She acts all nice at first, and then your fiancee ends up on a dissection table literally underground. You're not totally up for this, especially because she's both the person hiring you AND the woman diagnosing Meryl. You read those pamphlets on genetic work- maybe Meryl's unique genes are just what she wants. So you focus on what you can relate to- a curious little factoid you might be able to hammer at to break her personal armor. <span class="mu-g">A funeral? Anyone we know?</span>
"Nah," she says sardonically, reflexively putting the cigarette back in her mouth before realizing that she put it out and sneering at herself. "Damn... Sorry, it was nobody important. Just some old asshole who ruined my life."
<span class="mu-b">"Late father or ex-husband?"</span> Meryl asks, still bristling with nervousness.
"Dad," Dr. Sheridan confirms. "I take it you have experience?"
<span class="mu-b">"With bad fathers, not bad husbands."</span> She gives you an aside look. Is that a warning? Come on, she knows you. Surprisingly, the doctor takes your side.
"Well, I'm happily married, or we try to be. Hubby's a bit out there, but you can only hope for so much." She points at you. "You don't happen to be a megalomaniac?" <span class="mu-g">No...</span> "Hearing some hesitation there, champ." She laughs, but it's closer to a braying given her obscene smoking habit. "I'm kidding. That makes you an improvement on her father and my husband, God bless him." You really hope she's talking about two different people.
<span class="mu-b">"You know my father?"</span> Meryl now seems more alert and alarmed than ever. Your beloved feesh is getting awfully wound up over today.
"The same way a judge knows a drunk," Dr. Sheridan holds up her hands defensively. "Relax, you're not in trouble by proxy. I work with so many crazy people I practically qualify as a counselor."
Okay, this diversion has diverted enough. <span class="mu-g">What are you <span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-i">really</span></span> here for?</span> you ask.
Dr. Sheridan stops in the middle of the next joke she was thinking of. Getting solemn, she says with utter sincerity, "I'm here to offer you advice, protection, and a job. It would be hard to give one without the others, so I'm going to have to hope you liked those pamphlets." She takes off her heavy glasses and you're expecting to see some unusual color of eyes, but she's just exhausted, and squinting. She cleans her glasses before replacing them. "I work for March Industries. We do jobs nobody else is allowed to do. We're not with the government- if we were, we would be under a lot more scrutiny- but sometimes they come to us, when they want to buy something we made."
(1/2)
