Thread: Hyde and Seek [ Chai & Mr Quixotic ]

RE Hyde and Seek Ariamella Mr Quixotic Another self-entitled, fucking Hollywood Princess who thinks she can jump the damn queue because of her name . Dr Gerald Miller had just notated the last patient file, locked his office door, and was looking forward to a relaxing evening with his wife of three years Amy Lattimer-Miller, a failed ex-fashion model with legs up to her ears, long golden hair, the most gorgeous green eyes, and a size eight body deemed too curvaceous to be a success when the phone in the outer office rang, and he made the mistake of answering it himself. The thirty-five year old psychiatrist's first instinct had been to ask whoever it was to phone back during business hours, however on the other end of the line was his colleague, and occasional golfing partner, Dr Barry Kirk, who called on behalf of a friend, Hannah Davis . Could Gerald force an opening in his schedule the following day for an appointment with Ms Kat Ellis, the academy award nominee, and 'star' of the latest Michael Rodriguez film? It had taken him a few moments to recall the woman actresses were a dime-a-dozen in this town and after a further brief hesitation, he agreed to see her. The Doctor's lunch-hour was free, and a favour given was a favour returned. The 2,000 he'd charge for a forty-five minute 'hour' was nothing to sneezed at either not that Doctor Miller was short of a dollar already. Los Angles born-and-bred, he'd been raised in the Hills by physician Father, Archibald, and dutiful and subservient Mother, Emily a woman to be seen but not heard. Archibald Miller had gained notoriety and fame in VIP circles as the man to go to when a prescription was required - Valium, Morphine, Benzedrine, Lithium, GHB, Adderall, Ritalin, Uppers, Downers, he'd dispense it all for a price -, but had managed to keep his nose clean, and avoid legal troubles. At age sixty, with a fortune amassed, he'd retired to the Bahama's, and gifted the Hollywood mansion in which Gerald now resided to his only child, and his new wife. Gerald had intended to follow in the footsteps of his Father, and train as a physician, however a burgeoning interest in the working of the human mind in his late teenage years, had instead led to him to psychiatry. Following six years of College, a thesis on 'The Psychology of Fame', and a further three years of working under an experienced mentor in a downtown LA Office, Gerald had opened his own practice. Archibald had used his influence, and wealth of contacts, to refer patients, and soon a host of Hollywood names streamed into his office. Unlike Archibald, Gerald had taken the Hippocratic Oath seriously, and done his best to help where he could. Until recently. The first years had been enjoyable, but as time went on, Gerald had become bored with the constant bitching and whining of the self-entitled, stuck-up neurotic princes and princesses who entered his office, and their first-world problems. 'My nose is too big. My tits are too small. I was offered only nine million dollars, and I deserve ten. My girlfriend only loves me for my money. I'm ugly and fat. I should have been awarded the Oscar but they gave it to that undeserving bitch. And on and on it went. For fuck's sake, there were children starving in Africa, Human rights abuses in China, and war and genocide in the Middle East, and all these beautiful, rich people could think about was their precious egos, and fame. It wasn't that Gerald actually cared about third-world issues - he didn't give a shit -, but the pretence that he did helped assuage any guilt he may have felt that professional boredom, combined with a growing cynicism and distaste for his clients, had recently led him to begin subtly reinforcing their fears, rather than helping to provide the relief from them that they came to receive. If people thought Hollywood was full of neurotics already, just wait until he finished fucking with their heads. Doctor Miller, your next patient has arrived. Thanks, Jodie, send her in. Gerald Miller released the intercom, and stepped up from his chair. The office layout was simple and uncluttered, but as with the rest of the house, decorated with expense and taste. The Doctor's hand-forged oak desk was the centrepiece of the room, and placed near the rear. In front, and behind, were two red-leather chairs, with a plush, matching two-seater sofa adjacent to the entrance, in direct line of sight. A pitcher of water and two crystal glasses, which matched the set on his desk, sat on a coffee table beside the couch. Ornate, ceiling-high bookshelves which contained his medical texts were built into the two side walls, and the rear wall was bare. Save for three strategically placed framed photographs of Gerald shaking hands with well-know Hollywood celebrities. The Doctor himself stood a slim, six feet two inches tall, with short, dark-blonde hair, neatly combed and swept back from his forehead, the beginnings of a goatee, and bright-green eyes mostly hidden behind spectacles. As was his custom, he wore casual business attire today a pair of Khaki's slacks, and a white, Van Heusen dress shirt, top button undone. Disrespectful bitch . That was Gerald's first thought as Katrina stepped through the French doors, and his gaze was immediately drawn to the sweat pants, and tank-top. She dared enter his residence dressed as if she'd just fallen out of bed? Possibly a little unfair, but still, it was obvious the young woman had gone to no great effort to impress. The second thought, as he reached her, and pulled his gaze to her face, was that that Katrina Ellis was even more attractive in person than up on the screen. The recollection of her name had brought to mind her fresh good looks, and Gerald wondered about the reasons for her presence. Kat Ellis? It's so nice to meet you, I thought the performance you gave in your latest film was brilliant. The doctor shot her a smile, and offered her his hand emotions and uncharitable thoughts kept well-hidden behind friendly demeanour. I'm Doctor Miller, but you can call me Gerald. Take a seat wherever you like. Miller waved at the sofa, then to the chair in front of his desk as he made his way to the one behind it, and continued to talk over his shoulder. No reason to be nervous, just make yourself comfortable. The Doctor dropped in to his seat, reached for the water jug and a glass, and lifted his gaze to locate Kat. And we can commence with you telling me what's brought you to my office?