The Rule of Two

CHAPTER 6: THE WAIT IS OVER

She entered the new room slowly, her gaze creeping up from the floor to take in the surroundings. It was immediately unknown, unfamiliar territory. The equipment was similar, but its placement was different, disrupting any predictive map her mind had created from past visits. The single, crucial visual difference was the lack of a familiar face.

Dr. Vane stood beside the high, black dental chair. He was noticeably tall, a factor Winter hadn't anticipated, which made the space feel instantly smaller and more imposing. He had straight, black hair and was immaculately dressed, but his attire offered an unexpected deviation from the norm: he was not wearing a standard white clinical coat, which was often too bright. Instead, he wore a dark, professional suit beneath a hygienic blue apron. It was a formal, structured presentation that Winter’s mind found surprisingly stable.

He didn't move toward her or offer any of the overly bright, often condescending expressions she was used to from other professionals. His face was completely blank, void of any welcoming smile or artificial warmth.

"Take a seat," he said simply. His voice was low and even, a level tone that carried no inflection of cheer or impatience.

Winter instantly felt a sharp spike of anxiety. She immediately interpreted his blankness through the lens of her own core fear: she thought he was angry at her for being an unknown problem, or that he simply didn't care enough to pretend to be friendly. His extreme lack of social effort was a complete difference to other people she encountered.

Yet, as she walked toward the chair, a small, quiet part of her mind registered something profoundly unexpected: relief. He had made no small talk. He hadn't asked her how her day was or commented on the weather. He was not patronizing or overly theatrical. He had given her one, clear, unambiguous command.

It was clinical. It was simple. And despite the perceived anger, Winter felt a fractional lessening of the pressure. He just wanted the data.

She carefully sat down in the cold, hard chair, the cheetah teddy disappearing into her dress pocket, a small, secret weight anchoring her. Dr. Vane remained standing, positioned just slightly out of her direct line of sight. He didn't offer a reassuring word or a soft smile; he simply picked up a notepad and a pen.

He began the questions. They were the familiar necessities of a first visit, but they came in a completely different order than the script Winter had rehearsed. He started with medication, jumped to history, then circled back to insurance details. The disruption to the logical sequence caused a small spike of internal distress, but she answered each query with a short, blunt factual statement.

Dr. Vane maintained his blank expression. He never once looked at her. His gaze was fixed entirely on the paper he was making notes on, his pen scratching precise, small symbols. He seemed utterly uninterested in Winter as a person, focused only on processing her data into his system.

Because he wasn't looking at her, she could look at him fine. She could observe him, categorize his movements, and confirm the surprising lack of the terrifying white coat. The absence of intense, direct eye contact was a huge reduction in social pressure.

Once Dr. Vane had logged his initial questions, he placed the notepad neatly aside. He then slipped on a fresh pair of thin, clinical gloves, picked up the small, circular mirror, and moved closer to Winter’s chair.

“Open," he commanded, his voice perfectly level, devoid of any small talk or preamble.

Winter did exactly that—her jaw responding instantly to the direct instruction. The immediate compliance was born from years of unnecessary stress with her previous dentist. Her old practitioner had been predictable in many ways, yet he had never explicitly stated what he wanted. Instead, he would drift into casual small talk and simply imply it was time for her to open her mouth. She had always had to guess the correct moment, which took a significant amount of concentrated energy and caused immense internal stress. She would often open her mouth prematurely or late, leading to small, embarrassing moments where the procedure felt clumsy or she felt foolish.