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[u]Now this is [/u]quite[u]the eclectic bunch you’ve found yourself in, John[/u]. The familiar voice pulled at the back of his mind, formal and lilted like a public-school teacher from his youth. Rather at odds with its owner, a young Punjabi lass that had haunted his dreams for the past decade. The old man couldn’t help but agree; all ages and all walks of life. Hayes felt particularly… stonewall-ish, a black spot on a bright canvas. The young thug felt as tumultuous as his story sounded, the young blond girl [u]saw[/u] earlier was… conflicted, probably another one of those lost university students who thought they were entitled to the world. Most interestingly was the force that which [u]thelost[/u] projected himself – all encompassing, almost filling the room. Dreymund, the doctor said? [u]Yesnoyes[/u].

He stilled his shaking arm – his real arm – as Alex spoke, gripping the head of his cane tighter. Sometimes Herb almost wished that he had two prosthetic arms – after all he could afford the best. Nimble, accurate, never shook; but then he would watch the other unlucky ones who attended the clinic he owned cry over their lost limbs and the thought was banished. He smiled wistfully as Alex finished introducing herself, he had lost a lot of people [u]we’re still with you[/u] and alcohol only lasted for a while. Then you move to something stronger and stronger, but eventually you find that nothing can remove the madness. If only alcoholism was the least of his worries.

“I do want to do an exercise,” the Doctor continued, after thanking Alex for her contribution. [u]welove games[/u] – Herb, on the other hand, did not. He’d wait the doctor out, but if this is how sessions start it would prove to be an unproductive recommendation. The man seemed a little hurried – half the people in the room hadn’t even introduced themselves. What was the drive that kept him going? He frankly didn’t know, that’s half the reason why he came here. He could have anything he wanted with a snap of his fingers, but without the [i]risk[/i], without the challenge… his money was perpetually safe, tied up in hundreds of companies and squirreled away across the earth. He had as much as he could ever want… he just didn’t have the body to keep brokering the deals he used to. [i]Maybe it’s time to go legit[/i]…

Lightly Herb tapped his thumb against his cane as he leant back in his chair and [u]surveyed[/u] the group through dim eyes. Legitimately everything around his was dark, with pinpricks of light trying to pierce his clouded eyes – the doctor must have lit candles, there was a faint scent but nothing he could make out. What would the group expect him to say? Money? [i]Possibly[/i]. Some trite shit about his kids? [i]Live as long as I can to keep them away from doing damage to the world[/i]. 

Pain shot down his right arm and he unconsciously clutched it. Phantom pain as severe as when he lost it – dimly he heard [u]laughing[/u] in the back of his mind. Rubbing the join above his prosthetic he realised one of the few things that still brings him joy was seeing those that he was able to provide mobility to again. Legs for veterans, arms for car crash victims.

His mind was tickled with a cold splash as he submersed at the end of the slide.