"So, how's the drawing going?"
The room was clean and crisp, with cream walls and matching, maroon, faux-leather furniture. One wall was completely covered by two ceiling high bookshelves, and every book present had creases along its spine- evidence of their recurrent readings. Van Gogh replicas hung here and there, and in every corner of the room, at least one indoor plant resided.
It was all so very, very cliche.
"Ah- yeah. Yeah. Great."
"... April, I know that you're somewhat, ah, skeptical of the point of this, but why not give it a go, hm?"
"I am. Look."
The young superhero pulled an A4 drawing pad from her bag and opened it to the first page before flipping it over to show the therapist sitting opposite her. Dr Freeman stared at the illustration for a moment before smiling.
"Very cute. Do you like dogs, then, April?"
"... It's supposed to be a horse."
"Ah."
Another pause.
"... You said it doesn't matter if the drawings sucked."
"It- It doesn't suck! ... And you're right, it doesn't matter. So long as you're getting it all down onto paper, that's what counts. I'm really proud of you, April."
"Why? All I did was draw a shitty horse."
"It's not a sh- I'm proud because you're trying. And trying is the difference between victory and defeat. 'You never fail until you stop trying,' do you know who said that?"
"DJ Khaled?"
"Close. It was Albert Einstein."
Another long pause, and the doctor softly 'ahem-ed'.
"And how about the dreams? Are you still having them?"
"Yeah."
"How often?"
"Every few nights, I guess."
"So the prescription isn't helping?"
"It helps a little. It's been three nights since the last one now, so they're spacing out a bit more, now."
"Good, good. That's good to hear, April. Meanwhile, though, I really encourage you to avoid any stressful stuff, okay? Over the next couple of weeks, I want you to be stress-free. Would you say that you have anything causing you major stress right now? School? Family drama? Work?"
April smirked at the last suggestion, reclining slightly in her chair. "... Nope," She said, dismissively, "No stress here."
As one hand softly tugged down her mask, Knockout reread the message with the other:
"New Guardians, report to home base immediately. This is a priority mission, everyone is required."
Hm. Sounds potentially stressful.
For some reason, the thought was comforting instead of concerning, and as she stepped into the teleporter, she felt that typical rush of something. It was a rush that she was steadily growing addicted to.
"Knockout, member B-0-7"
Knockout offered a soft nod to her fellow teammates, tucking her hands into her pockets and settling against a wall.
The room was clean and crisp, with cream walls and matching, maroon, faux-leather furniture. One wall was completely covered by two ceiling high bookshelves, and every book present had creases along its spine- evidence of their recurrent readings. Van Gogh replicas hung here and there, and in every corner of the room, at least one indoor plant resided.
It was all so very, very cliche.
"Ah- yeah. Yeah. Great."
"... April, I know that you're somewhat, ah, skeptical of the point of this, but why not give it a go, hm?"
"I am. Look."
The young superhero pulled an A4 drawing pad from her bag and opened it to the first page before flipping it over to show the therapist sitting opposite her. Dr Freeman stared at the illustration for a moment before smiling.
"Very cute. Do you like dogs, then, April?"
"... It's supposed to be a horse."
"Ah."
Another pause.
"... You said it doesn't matter if the drawings sucked."
"It- It doesn't suck! ... And you're right, it doesn't matter. So long as you're getting it all down onto paper, that's what counts. I'm really proud of you, April."
"Why? All I did was draw a shitty horse."
"It's not a sh- I'm proud because you're trying. And trying is the difference between victory and defeat. 'You never fail until you stop trying,' do you know who said that?"
"DJ Khaled?"
"Close. It was Albert Einstein."
Another long pause, and the doctor softly 'ahem-ed'.
"And how about the dreams? Are you still having them?"
"Yeah."
"How often?"
"Every few nights, I guess."
"So the prescription isn't helping?"
"It helps a little. It's been three nights since the last one now, so they're spacing out a bit more, now."
"Good, good. That's good to hear, April. Meanwhile, though, I really encourage you to avoid any stressful stuff, okay? Over the next couple of weeks, I want you to be stress-free. Would you say that you have anything causing you major stress right now? School? Family drama? Work?"
April smirked at the last suggestion, reclining slightly in her chair. "... Nope," She said, dismissively, "No stress here."
As one hand softly tugged down her mask, Knockout reread the message with the other:
"New Guardians, report to home base immediately. This is a priority mission, everyone is required."
Hm. Sounds potentially stressful.
For some reason, the thought was comforting instead of concerning, and as she stepped into the teleporter, she felt that typical rush of something. It was a rush that she was steadily growing addicted to.
"Knockout, member B-0-7"
Knockout offered a soft nod to her fellow teammates, tucking her hands into her pockets and settling against a wall.