basic needs: 

  • air
  • water
  • daniel sharman


Thigh High Thursday

That blanket tho.




{ ♚ } — Alex looked up at the stranger with thinly veiled contempt, “Are you singing Nickelback, kid?” 

a little unwell || +alexandriahale


Right. The embarrassment wore off a bit, but he still wished he’d have gotten to finish his conversation; he could have actually gotten somewhere. Luckily, this particular hallucination seemed to be one of the helpful ones, rather than one of the voices that were out to get him. (And there were, occasionally, voices that were out to get him - that haunted him on bad days, made him want to harm himself, made him want to die. Today, luckily, wasn’t one of those days.)

Daniel noted how pained she seemed, and wished he could do something to help. He tried to pinpoint the cause of that pained look, but then she was asking after the amnesia he was ranting about, curious and bright-eyed, and he couldn’t exactly tell her it was none of her business. He may have been a cynical, antisocial bastard, but he wasn’t cruel, even on his worst days. 


"I’m a, um… a consultant for the FBI." That seemed to be a good place to start. It wasn’t like he just walked around talking about amnesia every day; it was very particular to the case. "I’m a neurologist. A brain expert. They hire me when they have a mental illness issue that they aren’t sure how to handle."

Was he even supposed to be talking about the case, though? He doubted that. But it was harmless; it wasn’t like this girl was going to run off and tell everyone she knew. “I’m investigating a murder, currently, and our only suspect has amnesia. So I was hired to look into it.”

But that did beg the question… “What makes you interested in amnesia? I doubt it’s just a passing fancy of yours.”


Alex leaned forward as he spoke, propping an elbow on her knee to rest her chin in her hand. A brain expert who spent his time talking to himself on benches, how ironic. Or maybe being a neurologist was a delusion? For all she knew it could be in his head. She couldn’t exactly be sure considering he was just talking to air a few moments before she sat down.  But he seemed painfully honest about the entirety of it, sincere about what he was saying. Plus, he probably just had something wrong with his head like she did. Well, not exactly but she knew enough about the brain to know that people with mental disorders could still lead normal lives with them. ,

Something in the back of her mind clicked, an idea sparked. If he wasn’t just blowing hot air, maybe he’d help her? It was definitely a long shot but in her line of work she couldn’t exactly afford to visit fancy doctors.

"Oh, I ah— I suffer from it—" Alex blinked, shaking her head. Slip ups were new. "Suffered from it. A while ago, so when people bring it up I sort of jump at the topic. It’s fascinating, y’know?" Honesty was most definitely not her strong suit. All things considered this was the most truth conversation she had in months, and that was saying something. 

"Maybe I can offer some help? With a weird most likely less educated opinon?" What a lovely start off. "So, you’re consulting on this case and a suspect has amnesia. Sounds difficult. Did they find any…evidence or anything to connect the person to it or are they just blaming him?" Forgive her, Alex’s knowledge of the justice system goes about as far as CSI: Miami and movies.