Doctor Stable stood in the doorway of the small, off-white room around eight o'clock Tuesday morning, instantly taking note of the patient that sat on top of her bed, now looking on-edge and staring right at him with a rather shocked look on her face. He backed up just a bit and read the small sheet that was hanging beside the door, trying to memorize as much as possible, then use that knowledge to help him to try and prepare for the session that was about to occur; it would be his first, and he was, admittedly, a little nervous.
He stepped all the way inside of the room when he was done, keeping his eyes on the patient while his horn and the doorknob behind him each glowed the same shade of light-green. Once shut inside, he proceeded inward, taking small steps so as to not further agitate the patient.
"Hey there," he pleasently began. She didn't react in any noticeable way, so the doctor took that as a sign to continue on his current course.
He looked down at his hooves and stopped, figuring that about halfway between the patient and the door was a good place to stop, just on the off-chance that things went staright to hell.
"Screwloose," he continued, "I'm Doctor Stable; you may have seen me before in the halls. Do you remember me from anywhere?"
She didn't respond, not even through a simple nod or shake of the head, but he knew that what he had to do, whatever that may actually be, had to happen sooner or later.
"You know, let's just forget about me. Can you tell me anything about yourself?"
Silence; he didn't even know if she was breathing, just staring incredibly intently straight at him.
The doctor wondered what was going through the patient's head, if anything at all. Was she afraid of him? Was this some test to see if she could trust him around herself? Nothing was making a whole lot sense at the moment, but he never really expected such a thing, especially down in the Mental Ward.
"You honestly don't have a single thing to tell me?" he asked, chuckling.
He briefly wondered if he should even be expecting a response anymore, or if he should just keep talking until she finally decides to do something, anything.
"I can tell you a whole mess of things, but I won't bore you right now, alright?"
He swore to have seen her blink, but also thought it could have just been an awkward glare from the sun leaking in through the window near the back of the room.
"Well, Screwloose, we've got a whole hour together, so we might as well get things rolling before I've got to get going again."
With that, he scooted backwards a tiny bit, undid the strap holding his bag down, then plopped himself in to a comfortable sitting position, shivering slightly at the contact between the cool stone flooring and his haunches. He magically brought the bag back in front of himself, then bit down on a zipper and pulled the whole thing open.
Doctor Stable rooted around just a little bit, bringing most every thing out of the bag and laying them to the left and right beside himself. He wished he could say that he knew how each and every one of the devices worked, but he honestly didn't; this job had actually been unexpectedly dropped on him earlier in the morning when he looked at the schedules for the week. Still, that didn't really excuse his inexperience with a wing of his own domain, so he couldn't complain too much.
He heard a slight creak, and apparently kept himself from looking long enough so that, when he finally glanced toward the sound's point of origin, Screwloose had finally moved, now laying comfortably on her side. He mentally slapped himself for missing the change, then went back to finishing pulling the last few pieces of equipment from the bag.
He pushed the bag back to the side and gave his full attention to the light-blue mare, who had once again ceased any movement, though her expression was slightly more relaxed than it had been; whether or not that meant she was more tolerable of his presence in her room had yet to be determined though.
He looked down at the pieces of equipment in front of himself, each one a different shape and size than the one before it. He stared for a long while, trying hard to determine each machine's function, should any of them serve any special one at all.
The stallion glanced back up to his patient, who now watched him like a curious young pup would its owner, head cocked slightly to the side and magenta eyes wide. Did she know how any of these worked? Would she even be able to tell him? He thought about getting back up to look over her info sheet one more time, but decided against it when he realized he had no idea what kind of adverse reaction such a decision may or may not cause.
Adjusting his plan to keep it so that he remained right where he was, he held up a circular pad with four colors and asked, "Do you know what this is?"
Unsurprisingly, he was met with silence. Even though he'd already been treated to nothing more, he still couldn't help but feel a bit miffed at the pure unresponsiveness of the patient. However, he had to dial it back, because, although he didn't have too much experience within this section of Ponyville General, he at least knew that the slightest mistake on the part of the caretaker could have a strong chance of throwing an unlimited number of wrenches in to the gears of an otherwise great and productive day. It was because of this that he had to curb his frustration, even though the mare in front of him wasn't showing signs of anything at all, good or bad.
He simply nodded in her direction and placed the item back where it was. He picked up a three-pronged piece, almost looking like a tripod of sorts, and held it up, asking the same thing again.
After waiting just short and quiet moment, he put the contraption back down, changing it out for what looked like nothing more than a block of wood. After eyeing the thing for only a second, he guessed that it would be heavier than he'd like to lift with his hooves (on account of a slight, ever-present pain in his back), so he lit up his horn and targeted it. Unfortunately, he managed to greatly misjudge the weight, and, instead of having it glide up in front of his face, the block slammed quite suddenly against his snout.
He knew he should have kept it inside, and actually tried to for a second or two, but the sharpness of the pain that shot through his skull caused him to blurt out several words he'd rather have kept away from the workplace.
He clutched poorly at his nose with one hoof and cupped over his mouth with the other, then looked over to Screwloose, who had, at some point during his short outburst, hidden away under the covers.
It took the doctor a second to calm back down, the feeling in his nose rapidly becoming nothing more than a slight pulse. After doing so, he waited a minute or two, never letting his eyes stray from the mass underneath the thin, white sheet; he couldn't be sure without getting up and getting close, but he could swear to see her shivering, though from what, he did not know (and didn't know if he even wanted to).
It had only been fifteen minutes or so, give or take five, and he'd already driven his patient away. In a way, he thought, doing so was a good thing, as he didn't really know how much more of her he could take before the day was done. Still, he had a job to do, and he intended to do it right, so he waited.
For the longest time in his life, he sat almost completely still and watched something other than page after page of a good book or the inside of his own eyelids. Screwloose shivered, or whatever it was she was doing, and then, after about three minutes, she stopped just as suddenly as she began. He didn't want to get closer and investigate, as he felt that, given her previous reactions to him, such a thing would prove incredibly problematic, but swore to hear a soft snore.
So, under the assumption that his patient had simply fallen asleep during their session, he packed the equipment in to its bag as carefully and quietly as he could, then left the room, once again leaving Screwloose all on her own.
However, as he signed off on her sheet outside, her eyes slowly opened, and a small, unsure smile began to take shape.