#I'm never getting over the mental image of someone tricking him into going to therapy

[illithilit]

@vigilant-cleric continued.

          FOR A LONG WHILE, the only response given was a single, raised brow, and the most dubious expression Mourndax could manage. Why had he let himself be talked into this again? Ah, that was right. He hadn't. He'd been expecting a job, and the damn chaplin was expecting some teary eyed bastard begging for someone to stop the bleeding of his heart. Honestly, the nerve some clients had, setting him up like this. There was money to be made, not.... Not talking about repressed issues.

          "Yes, well.... Perhaps if you'd spent a day in the Underdark, you'd know it to be factual, not relative. The only hands you get are distracting you from a knife to the ribs, pawing at your coin purse, or going to be turned on you sooner or later."

          Further scorn fell silent. Joy.... The word barely held any meaning; was there ever even a time he'd actually felt any? Maybe.... Maybe his time spent training Baljra? No, bit frustrating with her stubborn personality -- although she was still something good in his life. Finally pinpointing the hushed whispers to belong to Vhaeraun...? That was more relief that he wasn't going mad after all, that maybe someone cared, even just a little.... Ugh, why was he considering this in the first place? Burning red eyes had fallen to the wayside and turned distant and hollow. Horrible little disgusting reaction that it was.

          "I'm not usually so daft as to miss a well-formed scheme, but I hardly see what you have to gain from this." Expression snapped back to his previous defiance in a heartbeat, as if to cover up that he'd let anything slip in the first place and erase the sensation that it'd ever happened. "There's far easier ways to cajole money out of people, you know. Like offering me guards or something if I give you a few hundred gold. Or perhaps my name on a new barracks. That might look dashing, don't you think?"