Asylum (Murdoch and Kristie)

First topic message reminder :

Nothing is easy when you're a patient at an institution for the mentally ill. No matter what you suffer from, there are troubles and tribulations that one must overcome in order to remain somewhat normal and in control of your own mind. Not to mention the fact that, at this particular institution, the treatments are radical and sometimes cruel and inhumane. As a new volunteer, your job is to interact with the patients and help them with their day to day tasks. So how will I, a patient, react when seeing you becomes part of my regular day? Will I dismiss you? Or will I let you get to know the person inside?
The setting, specifically, is a criminally insane asylum (or, at least, an asylum with a criminally insane section).


Myen Bioen, as they say in Germany, or as they call it, “Germanean”. Lol…

Name: Gregory Wilde
Nicknames: He was nicknamed “The Trickster” after his spate of killings in which the victims had been tricked out of everything they owned and then murdered, made to look like suicides. It took the police five years to catch up with him.
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Sexuality: Straight
Height: 6’9

Body Type: Gregory is tall, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist. His muscles aren’t overly large, but are well defined.
Hair Colour: Natural? Black. But he’s dyed it purple.
Hair Style: Wild vertical spikes.
Eye Colour: A very dark green.
Facial Features: He has a somewhat squared, angular face with just a hint of curving.

Personality: Gregory is a tricky individual, being able to leap through loopholes like they were large hoops. He is intelligent and selfish, and does things just for the hell of it more then monetary gain. He is sort of arrogant, and views the entirety of life as a game in which the object is to cause as much trouble as possible.

Other: Find out.

History: Not much is known about his earlier life, and the name Gregory Wilde only appears six years ago, suggesting an alias that means he is not an easy man to work out the background of. He appeared six years ago, murdering 13 people after tricking them out of their possessions, and was on the run evading police for the next five years. He was thus nicknamed “The Trickster”. He takes immense pride in that nickname, and does his best to play up to that persona.

Wilde raises an eyebrow, smiling crookedly. "Any particular reason, or are you just taking a break from my stellar company?" He laughs again. He doubts it's that; possibly family business? In which case, is she going for a visit to her brother- yes, he hasn't forgotten, he's just biding his time- or her family near her brother? Or is it neither of those; does she just need a day off, or is it 'that time of the month'? These possibilities are all possible, but they are just supposition until he gets more information. Which she is unlikely to give him, that much is certain, but she gives away far more with what she doesn't say than with what she does.

I knew that would grab him. He couldn’t just brush something off, let it be.. He had to pick. What the point is in asking a question you know won’t get the answer to though, is beyond me. Should I even bother making something up? Or just switch over to how I’ve yet to get his answer. I suppose I need to say something though.. “Speeding ticket, Mr. Wilde. I’m taking it to court. No bloody way am I paying 200 dollars for a, excuse my language, bullshit ticket.” Simple enough, but knowingly he won’t by it, he never does. You can tell just by the look on his face that he’s playing back what you said in his mind, deciding what to make of it.

“You’ll have to fill your day with something else to do for that period of time..” I finished, a sigh stuck in there as if being disapointed I wouldn't be here. I shifted my weight on the chair, looked at the watch on my hand seeing I’d already gone over the limit of time. Hopefully he'd get to it already, and I wouldn't have to keep asking.

A ticket? Not bloody likely. Not for an entire day off, at least, and to be honest, he thinks it's probably got something to do with her brother or family. She isn't the type to stay out of her families life for long, if he's an accurate judge of character. Of course, he has no other information; she's getting better.
So he just shrugs. "I had a similar problem with the law once. What's illegal and what's wrong aren't always the same thing...." he trails off slowly.

No, he didn’t by it, of course he wouldn’t. If he actually thought it had anything to do remotely close to being in court, he’d be pestering me with questions around the subject. Instead he cracks jokes, shrugs, like it’s completely irrelevant to him. So, he knows I’m lying. One of these days we’ll have to get it out in the open.. The ‘lying’ business. Not today though, maybe the day after tomorrow when I get back into town, but I highly doubt it.

I rolled my eyes and smiled at his comment.. Which sadly I can agree with under certain terms. “Depends on the law.. But yes. Our laws aren’t perfect unfortunately.” One last look at my watch, I would need to leave, or risk missing a session with a patient who has.. A lack of patience, to put it simply. “Perhaps we’ll talk about that in a couple days, but our time is well up. Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Wilde.” I even gave one last smile. The type you give someone to be polite when leaving, but not wanting to physically say your farewells. It wasn’t at all for that purpose however.. It was more my way of saying that I know, he knows, I lied. Odd expressions to mix; being polite and being clever.. But I wouldn’t want I’m getting across to be too obvious. I’d be gone tomorrow, and he doesn’t know why. That, combined with the sound of the door closing behind me when I left was.. Relieving.

He watches her move to the door, a thoughtful look on his face, and for once it's feigned. Is she talking about the fine she supposedly has to pay, or is she talking about insanity laws? Considering her brothers situation- if he's right about that- that seems more likely...or she could be referencing how he got in here. She hasn't really said as much yet, but he knows that she doubts that he belongs in here. That much may or may not be true...but so long as he's not amongst the general populace, people don't much care.

As she's about to exit the room, he decides, on an impulse, to take a risk. It's a massive one, one formed on guesses and half-truths, but he has to gauge by her reaction what it means.
"Say hello to your brother for me," he calls after her, watching intently for any telltale signs.

Here I was, hoping he’d forgotten about my brother and his theories. I wonder what would happen if he knew he was right about Randy? That he was sick? What COULD he do? I mean.. I have a pretty good idea, but thinking about all of the worse outcomes that came to mind.. I realized something. If played right.. I could beat Mr. Wilde at the angle he was trying to get to me at, with my brother. IF things went a certain way, he’d have to find something else to pick at me with. That could either frustrate him to a violent point, which would set me backwards.. Or he’d do it.. Giving me more time to get information on him. A chance to crack him before he cracks me.

Now.. What to say back to him. Do I just ignore it, pretend I didn’t hear? He could shoot that as denial, and ‘prove’ his suspicions, but if I answer and use the wrong tone.. That’ll set it off as well. It’s a tad aggravating to have to prod at yourself like this.. Truth is, I’m not even going to Randy. I wish I was.. I miss him, but it’s a six-hour drive to where he is, and I wouldn’t drive that in one day, two ways. It’s too exhausting. “Yes, Mr. Wilde.” I said, little to no expression in my tone. I thought it worked both ways, answering like that. I could be using no expression to hide a reaction, or I could just be using none and agreeing to him because I was mocking his suggestions. Whichever he wants to take it as, so be it. I didn’t even know if he’d heard me or not, but I was looking forward to our next session.

Wilde watches her leave with nary a reaction, and as she shuts the door, he has to smile a little. Although she probably thinks that her lack of reaction isn't telling him anything, it is, in fact, telling him one thing; that he's wrong. Oh, her apathy made it harder to read her, even more so because she was facing away, but had he been right she would have given a little start, at the least, if her other reactions are anything to go by. She hesitated a little too long in her decision how to react; had she given a start as soon as he mentioned it, he would have been fooled. Still. She's learning, he'll give her that much.

So that leaves the question; where is she going, if not to her brother? Research? Field trip? Visiting other family? Who knows? He doesn't. Although that is hard to admit, he doesn't have enough information to make a judgement, and he used his one guess incorrectly. Any more and it would seem as if he was getting desperate. No, he has a feeling he may well find out in two days time. Meanwhile, it's time to start working out the fine details of his little plot.

Yesterday had felt like years without my job to keep me busy all day. My business that kept me away only took up a bout three hours of my day.. The rest was spent just sitting around my home. I took a couple walks.. But the interest in it died after about six blocks. When I woke up I was looking forward to the day of relaxing, but as it went by.. I was bored out of my mind. And boredom makes you annoyingly sleepy, and I ended up passing out sitting at my kitchen table for a good two hours. I almost missed my chance to get to the stores before they closed to get Mr. Wilde’s clothing. But I managed, and got a plain, black collared V-neck shirt, I think they’re called Polos, and a very dark wash pair of jeans. It doesn’t get much simpler than jeans and a Polo, how could I go wrong? Anyways, clothing wasn’t the angle I was thinking of using today to piss him off anyways.. But I did want to piss him. It’s been too quiet the past couple days, and I want to check up on easily I can make him snap.

I’d made sure that I arrived early for work, as to make sure Karl missed walking me to Mr. Wilde’s room as he usually does, and getting the key myself. I’d talked to the Nurses who go into Mr. Wilde’s room during the day for whatever reason, and explained the purpose of the clothes. A lie of course, involving it’s 'therapeutic value', but they didn’t know that. They also agreed not to tell anyone else.. So it should work out hopefully.

“Mr. Wilde.” I said cheerfully as I entered the room, closing the door with my back to the room. I turned around with a large smile on my face and asked in a faked curious tone of voice, “I hope yesterday wasn’t too boring without me.”

ooc: Sorry, I don't have much time ATM...I will post over the weekend, at the latest.

Wilde is sitting, staring off into space, on his bed, his legs pulled up so that one is crossed and the other is standing up, his right arm resting on the knee of the leg that is bent upwards. In his hand is a cigarette, being twiddled slowly and almost thoughtfully, smoking away merrily, only burnt down about a fifth of the way. His gaze doesn't even shift to the girl as she walks through the door. He's...thoughtful. Yesterday gave him a lot of time to think, and a lot of time to decide some things. That plan he had? All complete rubbish. Well, not all...it had elements he liked, but he's changed things. Oh, the base of the plan is the same, but he's changed some details, especially to do with this girl. He isn't going to drive her away- although, in hindsight, he never really was going to do it anyway; she's too much fun- anymore. No...no, now he's going to talk to her. Just like she wants. Whether he'll be truthful or not, that's a different story. Maybe he will be honest...she'll just have to decipher the true meaning of his honesty.

"It was no more or less boring than any other day, Girl," he says flatly, almost distractedly. Although he is distracted, he isn't distracted enough not to notice her fake curiosity- still happy that he got one wrong the other day? Possible- and also note the slight bulge in her clothes from either his clothes or a very impossibly short pregnancy. "You weren't here for a long time before we met. I had a long time without a nurse. My existence here does not revolve around you..." he lifts the cigarette up to his mouth, bending his arm at the elbow, and takes a long draught. He lowers his hand slowly back into the same position, holds the breath for a moment, then releases a long cloud of smoke. He knows it's bad for him to smoke, but the years it will take off are the ones at the end...and besides. Not likely he'll have anyone to miss him, is it?

Normally he would make a comment along the lines of 'your work day revolves around me' or some other such snarky comment, but not today. For whatever reason, he doesn't want to. Whether or not it's a part of the plan? Well, that would be telling, wouldn't it?
Instead, he says simply, "Are those clothes beneath your coat, or have you gained weight?" Even that barb is said simply, as if stating a fact or commenting on the weather.

Well, something’s crawled up and bitten him in the ass. As dull of humour as it was.. Why snap so childishly and make a comment so rude? Got nothing better, or nothing clever to say, so he just goes with that angle? It’s a surprising reaction.. Like his mind is elsewhere.. Distracted. Being optimistic, I could say I really did irritate something sensitive the other day. Now, being realistic.. It could have been random; No significance what so ever. I’m going to go with the second one, seeing as I highly doubt if I did irritate some part of him, he’d let it show that easily again. I had hoped I scratched somewhere, just to begin that climb of emotions until he flew off the handle again.

I walked further into the room, and laid the clothing from under my coat on the table in his room. I began to unfold the shirt so I could lay it out fully on the table for him to see, but a moment after I picked it up I could smell something drifting in the room. Slowly I turned my head towards him, seeing the light cigarette sitting in between his two fingers. I didn’t react to the sight of them on the outside, but instead turned away again and finished unfolding the shirt. With my gaze downwards at the table, I sighed quietly and said, “You’re breaking my rules, Mr. Wilde.. Put it out,” At this point I turned with a facial expression that a mother would give her misbehaving son, “or I will do it for you.”

Wilde has to smile a little at that. "You'll 'make me'?" He asks, his voice tinged with a slight tone of amusement. "How would you do that, pray tell? I may not be famous for violence, but I have committed my fair share." he puffs again, slower this time, then shifts his gaze to the girl properly. His eyes glitter with something implacable, but one thing is for sure; it isn't nice. "I am almost tempted to allow you to 'make me,' girl..." he sighs, then and pushes the cigarette into the wall beside him, "...but I am not in the mood. Ask your questions and begone."

He does love to exaggerate things.. Violence? He would have gotten violent over me walking over to him, taking it from his hand, putting it out and then giving it back? Good to know how he reacts to simple authority, unless he actually thought I’d be aggressive about putting out the cigarette. The last time we were inches away, I got tensed and locked up, yet he acts like I’d attack him! I hope what he did was a slip of the tongue.. Maybe I won’t have to make him burst today.

I looked at the cigarette as he put it out rather than him, and my hard expression formed into a smile. I looked away from his direction and took the chair from the front of the table closest to him and brought it around to the side of it near the wall, where I wanted to sit. “You’ll have to wipe that off the wall before the next nurse comes in, or she’ll spot it in an instant.” I began, referring to the patch of ashes that he left on the bleach white wall. I turned to face him as I sat down. “Are they alright?” I asked, my hand gesturing to the clothes beside me on the table. It was a quick transition from the demanding nurse to the nurse that.. Well, actually gave a care to if he liked them or not.

He gives the clothes a quick glance, then nods. "They're better than what I have now, that's for sure," he says a little sarcastically. It's not that he's ungrateful, it's just that if she starts thinking she's making progress too soon, it could ruin everything. She could start getting cocky and more attentive...and that won't do.
So he is sarcastic, and doesn't move. "Thank you, though, Girl." It can't hurt to be a little polite, though, could it? Make her think twice about everything he does.

‘Thank you’, words I’d never thought I’d hear out of his mouth.. Which is why he probably said them. Eh, no big deal.. It was somewhat better than listening to his vulgar comments. I nodded my head once and the smile on my face grew larger, as to say I was happy that he liked the clothing, without actually have to open my mouth. “The nurses have been informed of their.. Therapeutic purposes, so you won’t have to worry about being dressed in them during the day. They’ll be washed along with your other clothing as well.” I said, keeping my eyes in his direction, but avoiding the direct eye contact. No specific reason.. I just find it awkward. I sat up straighter in the chair, crossed my legs and leaned to the side so that the opposite arm was leaning on the back of the chair. “Now.. Do I have to re-ask the question.. Or do you remember this time?” I doubt the mocking would get a rise out of him as easily as it did last time.. But it doesn’t hurt to try.

He watches her carefully; he knows that he cannot afford to alienate her, and he also knows that he cannot afford to underestimate her. She is guarding her words and analyzing his extremely carefully, and it is extremely risky for him to be as distracted as he is right now. In all honesty, he is not faking his absent state...he is too preoccupied with other, more pressing matters. But a slip here could put everything in jeopardy, and he cannot allow that. He has a few more things he needs to set up before he makes his ultimate move, and then...then the fun begins. He gazes at her, casting his mind back a couple of days...he needs to remember that question...ah. Oh yes, he remembers. "My favourite victim, and why," he says, "An interesting question." He picks up the pen on the desk and begins to fiddle with it absently, threading it through his fingers over and over.
"Well, you payed the price, so I suppose I have to keep up my end of the bargain. I am a man of my word, after all." He smiles at her wickedly, a glimmer of his personality sparking through...even in his apparently distracted state, he is not to be underestimated. Distracted as he is, he almost drops the pen as he fiddles with it, only just managing to catch it before he begins fiddling with it again.

"Forgive me," he says, in a tone that suggests he doesn't really care whether she does or not, "I'm a fidget." He smiles at her, but there is a certain edge to it. "Now. My favourite victim...I would have to say that my favourite was my first real one; the one I told you about previously." That's no lie, but he is not about to divulge the real reasons behind it. Instead...he decides to mislead her. Oh, she'll probably see through it, but he lies with the truth and with her scrutiny, he is not expecting to fool her...but that is not his aim. If he deceives her enough, even when he does tell her the truth, she won't believe him. And that is a victory in itself. He is, at the end of the day, an unreliable source of information. "There's something magical about the first time, isn't there? That sudden tearing of innocence, when you finally know what all the fuss is about...that feeling of exhilaration, of freedom, of power. You never really forget it...and sometimes, it just makes you want to feel it over and over again, but it's never quite as powerful, is it?" He pauses, then looks at her intently. "Can you still remember your first time?" he asks, with a certain edge that leaves no doubt what he means, "Or haven't you had a first time, as dedicated to your work as you are? I find the latter hard to believe...an attractive young lady like yourself." He winks at her. Though she seems to have gotten over his initial threat, it couldn't hurt to suggest that she's 'his type'.

Ah, I should have known better than to get my hopes up at some new, useful information to pick at. He gave none of the details, or little hints that I was looking for. Maybe he’s finally realized I’m not as stupid as he thinks me to be, and like me is being a bit more selective with what comes out of his mouth. His selection of words are… Well, colourful to say the least. I couldn’t help but smile towards the end, not big enough to look overjoyed, but enough to say that I found something legitimately funny. And I did, because it’s as if he’s fixated on making me uncomfortable by using an awkward subject. Was I.. offset with a very large grown man, and a criminal standing less than an inch from me? Yes, who would be stupid not to be? His sneer little comments and gestures may have gotten the better of be before.. well, not may, they certainly did, but today is not then. Today he can have as much as he wants like this, as long as he stays where he is.. I’ve been hit on by men far more disturbing than Mr. Wilde.

“The first one..” I said faintly, and trailed off the words glancing down towards the floor momentarily. “I was hoping for something less predictable”, I finished, the sarcasm in my disappointed tone made very clear. I sat there looking at him, letting him think whatever his excited mind wants, while Im thinking over in my head what type of information I could get from him. The price I’ve yet to really worry about, I haven’t had TOO big an issue with any of them yet. What part of his life I’d like to know more about.. again, assuming he’s somewhat truthful. It was getting harder and harder to try and weasel something out while he becomes more cautious. “That sounds like a question,” referring to his curiosity about my personal life, “and as we’ve agreed those have prices.” I joked, knowing full well that my experiences weren’t of any real exchange value. At least, that’s what Im hoping for. He said it to creep me out, but the flattery was the only real ‘creepy’ part about his speech. I sighed, “But, for the record Mr. Wilde, I’m, as you put it, dedicated.. not a Nunn.” I winked, trying hard to mimic exactly as he’d done to me.

Even in his distracted mood, her attempts to goad him make him smile. She thinks to coax more details from him by attacking his taste in crimes, and of course, that would work with somebody who was more megalomaniacly insecure. He may be egocentric and meglomaniacal - it's almost a certainty that he is - but he isn't insecure. He knows that he's that good, and he doesn't need validation from somebody like her. He knows that privately, his reasons are good enough, and does not feel the need to justify himself. But even so, he can't let it pass without comment; a sly, meant-to-be-funny comment to make it clear that he doesn't care what she thinks is in order. Don't ask him why...but he has to keep the conversation going, or she'll leave, and talking with her is more interesting - marginally - than talking to the walls.
He shrugs. "I'm a traditionalist," and leaves it like that is the end of it.

Her next comment makes him smile, though; she may be dedicated, that much is obvious, but not a nun? Does that mean she's not a virgin, or that she has those desires? Looking at her, she had to go to University at some point, which probably means with a girl with her looks...she got some, at least once. Her coquettish wink may just be an attempt to throw him off track, but if he isn't mistaken, it's sincere...yes, no virgin here. "I can honestly say the same thing about myself," he smiles absently. "Recently, then? Or has it been a while? I can tell you now for free that I'm currently going through a bit of a dry spell...I must say, I do miss it." He laughs, then, but not cruelly...which actually may make it a little creepier.

I was thrown back by his disregard for my first comment.. I had hoped he would defend it in some way, tried to get a point across he was different. But it hardly fazed him at all. The only thing he’s interested in and is insisting on is my sex life, which he now knows to exist. I don’t see that knowledge as a gain for him, and feel relaxed that he’s focusing on a topic of my life that doesn’t make me uncomfortable so Im not likely to say something stupid or to disadvantage me. But.. Maybe that’s why. It doesn’t have a value to him, so this whole conversation could be something to kill time. I know killing time when you’re stuck in a place like this isn’t strange.. But not him. How can I believe he’s wasting his breath on something that gains him nothing.. What is actually going on behind that creepy little smirk of his? What is he stalling towards? Having the same problem as I am perhaps – not sure what to ask next.

So then, even if I do find it unimportant, I’ll keep my mouth shut. “Everyone goes through dry spells.. Yours, I’m sorry to say, will not be ending anytime in the near future.” I said with little expression as the smugness of it was in the words alone. I ignored the questions he’d ask, as a reminder without words that questions come at prices. Even the little ones.

She doesn't answer his question; she is learning. He can easily extract what he wants to know from her hesitations and her chosen words, so much of the time, it is better not to say anything at all, at least with him. But now, despite himself, he is intrigued....and more than that, he has a plan. The longer he keeps her talking, the more distracted she will become trying to figure out his new angle. And he can almost guarantee that she won't...but first, he needs her to trust him. He shakes his head, and stretches. "Dry spells happen," he agrees, "But I do not intend mine to last forever. Believe it or not, I actually enjoy intimacy, as rarely as it happens." He can't let her in all of a sudden, but he has to sow the seeds of...something. Trust? No. Progress. He's put up the resistance, but now that he is "distracted" and talking about something unrelated, he can see her mind whirring as she tries to figure out why he's stalling, or talking about something unimportant.

"You were asking me the other day about my love life. Whilst I have my theories, enlighten me; why do you care?" He leans forwards, as if suddenly intent on something...something burning, and as distracted as he was, his attention is now solely on her, as if perhaps - just maybe - she has grabbed his attention...or she was the reason he was distracted. "I have said before, you are different to the other nurses. For whatever reason, you care about your job. Perhaps it is just the naivety of youth, thinking you can make a difference where so many others have failed...but I must think, why me? After that first day, you must have known that I would not cooperate. Not arrogance, no...I was wrong in that - you should pay attention, Miss," he throws the 'Miss' in there almost casually, a noticeable change from 'girl' "I don't admit out loud that I was wrong very often - so what is it?" He looks at her, waiting, then leans back in his chair, as if suddenly disinterested. "No, I don't suppose you'll tell me without incentive; you've wised up about that, at least. So..back to the old game. An answer for an answer. And I promise to be 100% honest." His eyes twinkle invitingly.

And I still doubt that even today, you’ll admit you’re ever wrong Mr. Wilde, I thought to myself in my head, wanting to shake it but thought it better to just keep still. His tone and his body language said one thing, but his eyes said another. I don’t believe he is sincere in his realization he is wrong – even though he is – and I don’t think he ever will be. Why I care and do the job I do, what makes me different.. something not even his tricks will get out of me. He can sit there and spend hours trying to decipher it out of every word I say, and should he ever truly discover it, hypothetically, Im afraid the rest of the world has already beat him to the punch. That weapon is beyond well used. Is this what he’s doing though, bringing back the focus to Randy? Is that what he thinks is my reasoning behind my job and my continuation with him? Simply my brother? Well, he is a contributing factor, but that’s hardly the whole story. Why do I not give up on a man I’m coming to accept may never truly change? Ah, something Ive yet to put into complete words.

But, now he has my curiosity as I have his. Although I won’t show to be as eager as he is, real or fake doesn’t matter. I learn something new about this man every day, his interests and what subjects roam his mind.. and today that lesson was one I never contemplated, because until now I thought it to be a waste of time to worry on it.

“So, let me see if I follow. A question of my choice which you’ll answer honestly.. but of course, you’ve been doing that the whole time, in exchange for why I continue my sessions with you? Why I ‘care’?” I want him to agree before I ask my question, which I will have him answer before me. He knows I’ll hold up my end of the bargain, because I have a professional reason to gain information, whereas his is simply for fun.

He smiles; his assertion of honesty was not accidental, and she seems to have picked up on it exactly the way he'd hoped. She can't trust anything he says, not completely, but after reading his file she must know that even when he's telling the truth, he sometimes lies with it. He has been telling her the truth as he's been answering - not the whole truth, and the truth she hears is not necessarily the truth as it stands - but she knows that she cannot trust it, even when it sounds accurate.

But he can tell that he has her curiosity and her attention, which is what he wanted; he doesn't care why she hasn't lost interest...oh, he wonders, which is not a lie, but it really isn't important to him. It's just a stepping stone in his grand plan...his plans may have changed occasionally, but those were just the tactics. The overall strategy remained the same. He never does anything without cause, whatever she may think, and when his mind is set on one goal, it is never easy to keep him from it. He already has several of his pieces in place...he just needs to go in for the kill. But this is not a game that you rush...it's a game you take your time with. The most humorous part of this whole thing is that she thinks that they're playing chess, maybe with some Twenty Questions thrown in...they're actually playing the Chinese Go, a game of far greater complexity and difficulty, even when you know you're playing it. And he is winning.

"That is the agreement," he says simply, "Ladies first." He gestures airily with his hand for her to ask her question.

“Manners not even the sane men have.” I commented. Although confusing at times, the up and down mood swings of our conversations are something Im growing to enjoy. I could do without the obvious inappropriate comments, but his creepy-deep down I want to kill you- kindness is.. almost relaxing. In comparison that is, to an upfront ‘I want to kill you after driving you mad’ interrogation. If I really felt relaxed around him I would sign myself into this asylum and tell them to never let me out.

Moving on though, my curiosity is getting worse by the second. “You mentioned early, when we were discussing your.. dry spell, that you don’t intend for it to last forever. That comment for me.. is a little confusing. I haven’t been here long.. But I don’t remember any asylums ever allowing.. ‘guests’ into patient’s rooms, especially not a patient like yourself. I also looked at your case file, your life sentence into an asylum for the criminally insane is in big bold print.” Which for him was a blessing in disguise. Being admitted into an asylum is something every psychopath hopes when they law finally catches up with him or her. Prisons are a place truly for the damned, with nothing to keep you company expect four filthy walls, shit beds and food, and your cellmates that may or may not take a unique liking to you. I don’t know how he swung getting in here, but he’s a lucky man. Back on track though.. At this point he’s probably figured out what I want to ask, and what I suspect from him. Mr. Wilde doesn’t want help, and isn’t playing a usual game that these patients try with the doctors and nurses. Act as if they’re cure, take all orders without hesitation.. play nicely with others in hope they get a good evaluation and are set free. Mr. Wilde can’t ever expect to be willingly let go from this place. Even if he did start playing that obnoxious game.. the court doesn’t ask him if he feels cured, they ask his primary ‘care givers’, for lack of a better word. Which would be the doctor of the floor, Dr. Seger, and.. well, me. His primary nurse.

“So, the only way I can see your dry spell ever ending is if you’re no longer a patient here.. Which, forgive me, is very unlikely. But you know this better than I do, and so my question is.. Do you honestly believe that you’re ever going to leave this asylum? Either by our hand, or your own.”

His smile never leaves his face; he should have known. It was a throwaway comment by him, and perhaps a slightly rash one, but not one that he can't explain away by any stretch of the imagination. In all honesty, he wasn't thinking that much when he said it...he just said it to be funny, or at least amusing. "Fair to ask," he says, inclining his head in acknowledgment of her question. "And it deserves a fair answer. The simple answer is this; as smart as I am, I do not know what will happen in the future. I can plan for things, sure, and I can predict with reasonable certainty the actions that people are going to take if I have had enough time to observe or interact with them. This place could be shut down next week, and I could escape while they're busy transferring me. I could convince people that I am cured a year from now and get out that way...or my lawyer could find a loophole in the law that lets me walk free. Hell, I may die tomorrow from food poisoning..." he leans forwards and adds in a conspiratorial whisper, "...and with the cooking in this place, that's a very real possibility..." he winks at her, then leans back, still smiling.

"In short...I obviously want to get out of here eventually - I don't want to spend my life in here, after all - and I would very much like for my last round of intercourse not to be my last. But then, you of all people should know that what people intend and what takes place is very rarely similar...I, for one, never intended to get caught. In fact, I very much intended not to get caught...most people would say that it was ironic that I was thinking of retiring to Morocco or somewhere nice and warm in the next couple of years...I, of course, know the actual meaning of irony and just say that it was unfortunate timing. But nevertheless," he shrugs, "the universe has a way of messing up your plans, now doesn't it?" His grin broadens. "Now...how about you?"

I want to believe that he’s not being serious in his list of possible ways to get out of this asylum, with the exception of the food poisoning – that I don’t doubt. Escape during a transfer? He’d be one of, if not the most, important patient to get from point A to point B, and God knows we wouldn’t even give him a heads up about it so he doesn’t have any time to actually plan anything. And I can’t see how he’d take down an entire vehicle of armed employees. I never did like the idea of having firearms around patients, if they are criminals.. But in Mr. Wilde’s case, it’s a precaution I won’t argue. After already being caught once.. I can’t see how they’d catch him again if he got a big enough head start.

Lawyers? I’m sure Mr .Wilde has one of the best under his sleeve, or how else would he have managed to swing the ‘insane’ role in court? It doesn’t matter though, who do you think the court would believe? The words of the homicidally insane, or that of a medical professional? Who, as long as she’s around will never support the recovery of Mr. Wilde. I know better than to trust what comes out of his mouth.

However, even given this.. I do feel somewhat worried. Maybe he’s not going to get out using one of the ways he had suggested, but the thought of escape being in his head is enough. There’s something he knows that I don’t – what else is new – and what if that something could get him out of here..

“I guess it’s my turn.” I paused and sighed, sitting up straight before I continued. “I continue my sessions with you Mr. Wilde because it’s my job to. I’m a nurse, they hired me and you are one of the patients I was assigned to. What kind of medical professional would I be if I turned my back on a patient? I definitely wouldn’t get a promising reputation, especially if I decide to move up in this business. We have our differences,” the understatement of the year, “and you’re right that from the first day I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but dealing uncooperative and stubborn asses is something I’m very good at. I haven’t been given a reason to have you reassigned to a new nurse, so why would I? Even if you don’t want it and even if I know it’ll never work, I was put here to help you, and so I will until something relevant tries to say otherwise. In which case they'd probably give you some bullshit nurse that gives up and begins skipping your sessions all together. People dont care, I do. I care because someone of your.. unique characteristics, still deserves the same treatment as any other patient here. When Im speaking to you, Im not speaking to 'The Trickster' and looking down on you, Im speaking to Mr. Wilde, an ill man who made a lot of bad decisions. That's what makes me different."