Chapter Text
“SCP-166 is my daughter,” Clef said straightforwardly as soon as he sat down, his tone making it sound like a ‘boom!’
The psychologist didn’t react with surprise as he had hoped; in fact, there was no reaction at all.
It was as if he didn’t notice Clef putting his feet up on his neat and clean desk, or the soles of his shoes rubbing against the teacup provided by the doctor. Glass had no reaction to this bombshell statement. He just tidied up his notebook and files, opened a half-used black marker - he never took out a fountain pen in front of Clef since Clef made one leak ink on purpose, ruining a notebook - and then looked up and smiled at him.
Clef thought that every time the guy faced him, he showed the exact same smile.
What kind of creature could manage an identical smile every time?
“Okay. You must really want to talk about this issue,” the doctor said.
“Bullshit,” Clef replied.
They then spent a delightful time together, talking about the Ukulele Man, mentioning a few unfortunate ones who died in the corridor last week, and not mentioning SCP-166 again. Then Clef stood up, kicked over the teacup on the table, cheerfully adjusted his hat, patted his buttocks, and left.
Of course, Sophia mandated each consultation to be no less than two hours, but Clef didn’t care about the mandates.
He asked Glass to cut his consultation time in half.
Glass replied, “Okay, I will rearrange your consultation sessions,” and then sent Clef a disgusting psychological consultation schedule.
Somehow Glass got his itinerary, and it seemed that for the next three months, he would have to see that ugly face at least once a week.
Clef didn’t reply, pretending not to have seen it. Glass understood his attitude but didn’t remind him, just appeared in his office ten minutes after the first consultation started: “I brought you a cup of tea,” said the psychologist.
Then he put down his bag, took out his notebook and file bag, and sat on Clef’s sofa - Clef was still touching his shotgun, wondering how he got in and why he didn’t blast him through the door - they strictly spent an hour together, during which the atmosphere was so awkward that even stones would want to kill themselves - and then, the psychologist left.
Clef couldn’t find a trace of frustration on his face.
The second time, the doctor didn’t appear in his office.
Clef was half an hour late. When he arrived, the doctor had just made a cup of tea, and his sharp eyes noticed that the water in the kettle had just boiled. If the doctor didn’t boil water multiple times while waiting, it meant he knew he would be half an hour late— they politely discussed the issue of Clef cheating in the last routine inspection.
Clef refilled the questionnaire - to measure behavioral baseline, Glass explained - Clef burnt the questionnaire in front of him with a cigarette, and the psychologist calmly took out a second one from his bag. “You’re not the first one to do this,” Glass said. Somehow, the questionnaire was mysteriously completed before the consultation time ended.
The third consultation went much smoother than the previous two - Clef glimpsed the psychologist writing in his notebook - the fourth time, Glass stopped him before he left.
“Just one sentence, Dr. Clef,” the doctor said, his light green eyes looking platinum behind the glasses, “The Foundation’s authority management system is very subtle. There are many things I can’t see. In other words, the more I know, the less the Foundation will trust me. Sooner or later, they will respond to this, do you understand?”
Clef stared at him for a few seconds, leaving with a huge Cheshire cat-like smile. “Don’t worry Glass, at last, they will only tie you here, forever, for a lifetime.”
The doctor didn’t speak.
Clef thought his quietness was almost eerie.