Oh Therapy... {Tag: Justice, Ryker}

[Sid "Jimmy" Snider]

Home. Home was something that was seemingly forbidden to Sid Dakota James Snider. It was something that he craved, but couldn’t have – it rested just outside his fingers, his tips just barely grazing his goal – it was still and probably always will be forbidden to him until his doctor told him it was okay to go home. His sister and mother never even visited him at the hell hole – something the nurse told him at one point would be “bad” to him to help him return him to how he “should” be. It made him feel like he was a criminal locked in jail. It irritated him – they told him he was dangerous; he was just as dangerous as the next man, wasn’t he? You threaten his family, he’ll fight to the death. Unless, of course, you were his fucking retarded father who had decided that leaving his son was something that was worth it. But, you know, until he got over that anger and had become “less of a threat” to the people he loved, he wasn’t allowed to – you know – go home, which honestly had pushed him over the edge. He had mulled over this shit over and over for a while today, wondering if they’d keep him here until he died. It was constantly on his mind for the last few hours, especially as he walked through the halls with his trusty steed guard of the day.

To say the least, he wasn’t exactly thrilled, and he was clearly in his “Jimmy” mood. The way his eyes were darker than normal, his face scrunched up in a glare, the way he almost stomped his feet as he walked – he was irritated and that was that. He wasn’t close to blowing up, no, but he wasn’t exactly in a good mood either. The fact that they wanted him to go to a group therapy just didn’t exactly please him, either. Well, to say that he was happy about that would be a lie. A complete, utter lie. There was a reason he didn’t do group therapy – everyone asked him about this and that, and it just really got underneath his damn skin and he couldn’t understand the point in wanting to have to hear other people’s pathetic stories of misconduct or “I’m fat so I starve myself” types of things. He didn’t have a problem, but they sure as hell thought he did. He couldn’t help but growl in irritation as he thought about it.

And suddenly, he was pushed into the room by his steed guard. The room was empty, save for an annoying almost-in tears boy who honestly looked at him as he walked through the door with the most pathetic, sadden-kicked away from his master puppy look. It made him scoff and roll his eyes. But whatever – it wasn’t Sid’s Jimmy’s job to baby sit, now was it? He moderately annoyed the boy as he took a seat, purposely sitting in the chair so his arms rested over the top of the chair and he was sitting in it backwards. He rested his arms on the top of the chair, and then got comfortable, resting his chin on his arms, staring blankly at the floor. He hated group therapy sessions – he really, really did. He could feel his guard standing only a few feet away, behind him and slightly towards the left, blocking the door from any possible escapes at avoiding this… this train wreck in the making.

[/justify]

[justice]

There was a loud banging on his door, like every other morning he accidentally on purpose slept in. He groaned, pulling his pillow over his head and listening to the banging for a few minutes before sitting up, still in his clothes from yesterday. He hadn't bothered to change them before falling asleep. "I'm up, I'm up!" he said loudly. "Now go away, for fuck's sake!" He had hoped that whoever was banging on his door would listen and obey, but nope. All through the thick piece of wood that was his door, he got scolded for his language and told that he was to be escorted to therapy. He didn't have any guards, so it was probably a nurse. "I'm indecent!" he yelled over his shoulder, hoping to buy himself some more time while he went through his morning routine. At least the banging stopped for a few minutes. He switched out his wrinkled and dirty clothes for a fresh ensemble, quickly brushed his teeth and hair, then... well, that was all he really needed to do.

Making a face, he opened the door to see a mildly attractive nurse, who at the moment looked very cross with him. Smirking, he headed down the hallway, paying only mild attention to her as she told him that he would be sharing a therapy session with another patient, seeing as Lucid Manor was on a "tight schedule". He sniggered to himself. If Lucid Manor was so high-end, why couldn't he at least have a therapy session to himself? Not that he wanted to be alone with Cheeseball, but considering how much the other patients annoyed him, he would rather at least have a full on group session instead of sharing it with one other guy. The nurse had told him it was a guy, a high profile, too. Should be interesting.

He yawned as they walked down a few more hallways, then was suddenly pushed rather roughly into one of the therapy rooms. Grumbling, he looked around. It was so far empty. He snickered and placed himself in a chair, wondering if Ryker and his "therapy buddy" had abandoned him. Or maybe miss nursey had just woke him up early for no reason. He leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes and dozing off a bit. It would probably be a while until anyone joined him, so he could catch up on his sleep. He hoped.

While he was resting, he thought about his plan. Well, it wasn't really a plan yet; just a vague idea. He was going to escape, but for obvious reasons, he hadn't told Cheeseball yet. He was going to get out of here and see his family again... if they wanted him back. It made him a little sad to think that they might not. After all, he had been pretty distant with them for a few years. He thought about that for a moment, then realized that he was fucking homesick. He had never been homesick before, and he frowned. He adapted well to most other situations, why not this one? Maybe it was because this one didn't have a deadline. It didn't seem like the facility planned to let him out any time soon, maybe never. And he didn't have any friends, either. No family to tell him he would be okay, not even any buddies to take him out for a drink and dinner. He sighed, almost laughing at himself. He was pathetic, even more so once he noticed that his cheeks were just slightly damp. He growled to himself and wiped them off, staring at the door in hopes that someone would come through.

And viola, there was his therapy buddy and his guard. He felt sorry for the poor bloke, having to be followed around by some guy in a uniform all day. He snorted slightly, watching him sit down, and raised his eyebrow at him. He wasn't going to say anything until that damned cheeseball got here, but he could act civilized. Or maybe he couldn't; this was an insane asylum after all. It was then that he noticed that his cheeks were wet again. Dammit, how long was this going to go on? It probably didn't give the other patient a very good impression of him, but oh well. It wasn't his job to make friends here, it was his job to get the hell out.

[tuxie]

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He raced to dress. He didn't have anything half-way decent to wear to his first group with the new lot. He sighed, closed his eyes and sighed. Everything was so rushed. He decided for an every day look. Black slacks, black teeshirt and the doctor overcoat. His had lollipops in one pockets and pens in the other, his name tag had stickers on them. Philipp wanted to seem light-hearted and care free. It normally makes it easier to interact with more of the intense patients. He smoothed his wayward hair and breathed. The calm before the storm.

He looked at the time, two mintues late. Good. He wanted to keep El Siddo and Justers guessing. He grinned at his nicknames for the boys. It was his favorite thing, giving nicknames. Philipp walked slowly, his hands in his pockets, humming a tune from Frank The Baptist, one of his favorite bands. He rubbed his nose as he walked in, he took a look at both, his dark eyes traveled over both boys. He took a sit and looked at both. Sid looked pissed and Justers? Who knew what the fuck he was feeling. The kid barely showed anything. He looked at both again.

Philipp nodded to Sid "Siddo, can you please introduce yourself to Justers?"He asked, a smile on his mouth. He folded his hands into his lap, looking at both boys. He felt no need to explain why he was late, or why they did group instead of singles. He liked to do group over singles, it was easier to interact with both and took up less time. He blinked and watched.

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^{TAG - SID & JUSTIC
WORDS - A GOODLY AMOUNT
NOTES - HI <3
TUNES - PANDORA
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0}

[Sid "Jimmy" Snider]

Jimmy was still annoyed, and group therapies were pissing him off even more. What the fuck was Philipp Ryker thinking when he decided to hold a fucking group therapy session. He growled almost inaudibly underneath his breath as he let his fingers tap aimlessly against his arm, his neon coloured eyes staring at the wall. No emotions passed over his face as he waited for this hell to be over – if he was in a good mood, he wouldn’t have particularly minded it, but… he wasn’t in the fucking mood. He wanted to run, to kick, punch, scream, fly off the handle in his room and smash his head in if he really wanted to. He wanted a smoke, a drink of his booze, an off the wall, one night stand; anything to return him to being in a good mood. But no, he was stuck here, waiting for a doctor with a cry baby. A fucking god damp dipshit crybaby. “Shuckface,” he mentally told himself, a twisted smile forming on his face. He studied the boy before he turned away, looking at the door as it opened and his pathetically stupid doctor walked in. Late, probably as always. He eyed the man, almost hatefully, as he gave them a smile and sat down.

There was a silence that passed over the three of them – four if you count the dipshit horse that was standing behind him, tense as always. He looked only once at Ryker before turning away, finding more amusement in the wall than at the man’s ugly face, ignoring him when he asked to introduce him to “Justers” – obviously the stupid crybaby. He was Jimmy. He wouldn’t respond to anything but that, and he knew Ryker knew him well enough to pin down which mood he was in to not call him fucking retarded names. So he ignored it – blatantly, too, purposely scratching at the side of his nose, his eyes filled with hate and staring at the wall. Sid may have enjoyed having pathetically stupid names, but whatever. He didn’t particularly care. He wasn’t going to open his mouth – after all, Ryker didn’t ask him to talk.

[/justify]

[justice]

There was the dark side, and then there was the even darker side. Though Justice had never watched Starwars, that was how he graded people that annoyed him. Cheeseball was on the even darker side. He growled at the doctor as he called him by his much-hated nickname. "Thought I told you not to call me that, Ryker," he said irritably. Justers... dammit, it made him sound like a girl. All he needed now was a prom dress and a chest, and he'd be set to be somebody's girlfriend. The thought made him snort softly. Justice Mori would rather rip his date's eyes out than be considered a girlfriend. Well, no, he wasn't good at ripping. Maybe he could burn someone's eyes out. He hadn't tried that before, but it sounded interesting. He wondered how obvious the difference between burning eyes and burning skin would be. Obviously, eyes had more liquid in them, so... yeah. He should try it some time. But back to the present. He raised an eyebrow at the other patient, mouthing "Siddo?" curiously. Damn, that nickname was even worse than Justers... well, no, it wasn't. Justers was worse by a long shot, but he wasn't going to complain to some prissy doctor about some nickname. Hell, he gave everyone nicknames, he just didn't say them out loud. But unless the high profile patient gave his name soon, he would be engraved in Justice's mind as Siddo forever more. Poor him. "Anyway, Ryker, didn't you just introduce us to eachother? Kinda ruined the moment." he said, rolling his eyes. Damn Cheeseball had no sense of common social manners. But, of course, neither did Justice.

He leaned back on his chair, staring at the ceiling and humming a little tune. It was quite depressing, really, and he hoped Ryker would get the message that the medium profile patient was as bored as hell. Or maybe he would think that Justice was wanting to commit suicide. Doctors tended to think that, or at least he thought they did. Justice had had Ryker as a doctor from the very start, so he wasn't really experienced with other doctors. Hell, Ryker had even been trying to talk to him in the very beginning, when Justice had refused to come out of his room. It had gained him a grain of trust, maybe even some respect. But he still hated his doctor, and nothing could change that. Not even bribery, though the only thing Ryker ever bribed anyone with was candy. It wasn't even high quality candy, dammit.

[tuxie]

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Philipp looked at Sid. Oh. It's Jims. "Hello, Jimmy"He said to Sid. He popped his knuckles and relaxed his hands again. He blinked, slowly. "Why are you out?"He asked to the boy. Jimmy and Sid were interesting to Ryker. Sid used 'Jimmy' as a way to show how upset he was, how displeased he was with the whole world. Jimmy normally isn't this quite. More importantly, he normally says something about the nicknames. He watched Jimmy till Justi-poo spoke. The man looked over to Justers.

He grinned "Now, without the nickname how will I ever remember my favorite"He started, "Medium patient?" He asked, and thought And my only medium patient. Why can I get low?? Maybe I get too bored with them. He itched the back of his neck. He laughed.

Justers had a point. Ryker did kind of introduce them. "Well, Justers, this is Jimmy. Normally it's El Siddo"He said, he looked at Jimmy "And, Jimmy, that is Justers. I think he prefers Justice though. But, personally..Justers sounds so much better" He laughed and smiled at Justers. He winked at thew boy and sighed.
"Now,"He started, licked his lip, looked between the two "I asked you both to group today, because I thought it'd be easier to get in our therapy hours but without that awkward one on one shit, I know you both love so much" He explained. "Today, in group, I'd like to explore what you think you need to do to feel better"He said, he liked to set basic guidelines of what to discuss. It normally helped group move more smoothly, then sitting and waiting. He leaned down and grabbed a small notebook and a pen, He made a T-chart, one side said "J U S T E R S" and the other said "S I D D O / J I M M Y" He would take quick bulleted notes from what they said.

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^{TAG - SID & JUSTIC
WORDS - 327
NOTES - HI <3
TUNES - LION KING
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0}

[Sid "Jimmy" Snider]

The worst thing about having a pathetic doctor named Philip Ryker? The fact that he couldn’t spot how easily different Jimmy was from Sid. Hence why Jimmy blatantly ignored Ryker’s ‘El Siddo’ comment, because that was Sid, not him. There was a difference between him and his pathetic “other half” sometimes, even though that wasn’t really the case. He gave a deep huff of breath, blowing out through his mouth, keeping himself from standing up and leaving. The last thing Ryker would’ve wanted was him to do that, and he’d probably keep him locked up for it longer. He couldn’t help but snort a bit, shaking his head at his thoughts before Ryker finally greeted him, and proceeded to ask why he was out. He gave the ‘doctor’ – who, honestly, was more like a pathetic loser than anything – a dry stare, “It’s none of your business,” he drawled, face unemotional. It was something he was learning to do – keep most of his feelings away from the doctors; he wasn’t one to share them, anyways. He snorted, loudly, letting the “justers” talk. More like “Justi” – the other boy looked like such a damn girl… for just a moment, a thought passed through Jimmy’s head and a dark smile appeared on his face, eyes darkening without any hesitation.

He ignored the comment Ryker said about one on one therapy, and rolled his eyes. He was quiet, letting “Justi” take the first comments, his fingers tapping against his arm as he studied the wall again, staying silent. No use in giving this man – this doctor – the pleasure of being able to think his thoughts and “dissect” him. He wasn’t supposed to be here, and his eyes studied Ryker for a moment, his head tilting, “Why don’t you start, Ryker? What do you do to feel better? Smoke? Or do you go play with girls? Or maybe you go and play with yourself, huh?” he asked, curiously, wondering what the man would say in retaliation. Maybe the man would think it was a trap, but it wasn’t – after all, the best role model was someone who answered their own questions before the patients did… at least, Jimmy thought so, and that wasn’t really something he would’ve minded – having Ryker talk all hour or however long he was supposed to be stuck in this hell hole room for.

[justice]

Justice sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. This was boring, seriously boring. The medium profile didn’t like it, not at all. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair and looking back at Ryker. ”You’ll remember the name of your favorite medium profile patient because there’s no one else in the damn asylum with it,” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. Justice was a unique name, not to mention odd. Ryker shouldn’t need to give him any girly nicknames to remember it. Wasn’t Justice memorable? He kind of hoped that he wasn’t, because honestly, Justice liked blending into the background. Too bad he wasn’t a low profile patient, but he supposed that with his little habit of burning himself that wasn’t going to happen. Though, even if Justice himself wasn’t memorable, his name was. Seriously, who else named their kid Justice? Unless there had been some random fortune cookie that said he was destined to be a lawyer, he didn’t see any reason. Even with that as an excuse, there was no reason to stick your kid with such a horrible name. ”Damn right I do…” he muttered as a response to Ryker saying he preferred his real name. Okay, yeah, he had just spent a minute complaining about how Justice was a bad name, but Justers was worse by a long shot.

Anyway, there had been an introduction. Social guidelines said that he should tell Jimmy that it was nice to meet him, but on the other hand, Ryker had told him not to lie. So Justice simply smiled innocently at the high profile and waggled his fingers in a little wave, like a princess or something. Justice was perfectly able to make fun of himself; he just didn’t let other people make fun of him. It was a matter of pride… well, the few shreds of it that Justice had managed to retain when he had been chucked in here. It was hard to keep your pride when you were injected with drugs and forced to tell some damn doctor every thought that crossed your mind. Actually, during therapy, Justice was normally pretty honest. He answered Ryker’s questions without being too much of a dick, and even though he didn’t pour his heart out, Ryker normally got a lot of information out of the former college student. Of course, during large group therapy that changed, and he normally stayed silent for the whole time, no matter how many questions Ryker asked. He wasn’t exactly sure how therapy with two patients would go. Maybe he would stay silent and maybe he wouldn’t, he supposed that it depended on how resistant the other patient was to talking. In this case, Jimmy, who seemed pretty opposed to pouring his heart out to Ryker.

Justice suppressed a groan as Ryker told them that they needed to talk about what made them feel better. This was going to be embarrassing. No matter how hard Justice tried, he could never come up with any witty remarks. Like the one Jimmy had just came up with, for example. Shutting up would make him seem stupid and… emo, maybe. While answering Ryker’s questions would just make it seem like he wanted to get better. No, he didn’t think that anything was wrong with him. He didn’t want to change, but he made it seem like he did in order to get out of his place. Just not in front of people like Jimmy. He took a deep breath, watching Jimmy warily. He hadn’t missed the dark expression that had passed the kid’s face earlier, and he had wondered what caused it. It made him slightly uncomfortable. Maybe he would just attempt a witty remark. He couldn’t fail that badly, could he?

”I don’t think he likes girls, Jimmy,” he said, stretching his arms above his head and yawning, still tired from the early wake-up call.

If he was down to making gay jokes… yes, he could fail that badly. He really could.