"You can't smoke in here sir," says a fidgety young nurse whose nametag reads Nathaniel.

Michael hadn't barely noticed the small white stick of tobacco or the lighter being twirled restlessly between dry hands. A gathering of persperation breaks free from his hairline, to seconds later be wiped off by a silk cloth. Today he's meeting his charge, the first of what he hopes to be many here at Giroux.

"Sorry," Says Michael in an off hand way. Dismissing the nurse with a curl of smoke to chase him from the office. It isn't his, not yet. But since he's on a trial run they are allowing him to use it for the time being. "Oh, uh, sir they're bringing Nyla Lennox in soon." Says Nathaniel as he reappears at the door, relaying his earlier forgotten message.

Ah, Michael had assumed this to be so. Others had warned him over the course of his settling in that she would be difficult. A patient that went beyond the normal radius of mentally ill. Others before had quit because of her many oddities, and the ever changing array of diagnosed illnesses.

"Noted, please leave me in peace. " Michael dismisses the man airily.

These things only fed the curiosity burning deep inside of Michael. The deep obsessions of his heart. He wants - no - he needs to know more about the afflictions this poor young woman faces.

He grinds the last of the cigarette into a glass tray, watching intently the smoke that curls upward from the remainder of the extinguished cherry. She would be there soon, for an evaluation. And finally he would get to sate the hunger of his over abundant curiosity. Finally, he would be allowed to do his job as he wishes.