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Who is this sassy lost child
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Johnny had been uncharacteristically quiet for the last day or so, Raina thought. Maybe it was the dwindling responses he could get out of her and the lack of anybody else. Maybe he was just doing his best to keep it all together and keep soldiering on, like she was. She didn't want to ask and open that particular can of worms.

They worked their way down to the first floor of the asylum, which they'd bypassed on their first day. Raina wasn't sure what, if anything, they'd find in this old shell of a building, but it was better to scour the place now than overlook something essential. There had to be something on the island. She had an inkling that threatened to become a certainty - the first Danger Zone had been the supply depot, and now the utilities compound. There had to be something there, for the people pulling the strings to keep them out of those places one after the other. Raina wasn't sure if she and Johnny could make it to the supply depot before the next day, but that was the next stop on her list once they finished with the asylum.

There was still frustratingly little here. It wasn't like she'd been expecting some kind of technological treasure trove, but this place was still supposed to be like a hospital, right? A leeches-and-lobotomies style hospital, yes, but still a hospital. There should have been something. She was loathe to return to the basement, but if all the equipment was there...

But she'd think of something. She would.

Raina was so lost in her thoughts that she'd almost reached the group therapy room before really registering that voices were coming from within. She scolded herself to pay more attention, to not get so wrapped up in the details this early that she ran them right into disaster before they accomplished anything. One step at a time.

A glance at Johnny with raised eyebrows only got the expression mirrored back at her, and Raina nodded more to herself than to him. The voices sounded calm, if not relaxed. She placed one hand on the door and pushed it further open. "Hey... hello?"
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."

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Thanatophobia · Group Therapy