Many, many people I've known got lost.

The Waiting Room.

The whole therapist's office smelt of fluoride, it wafted over from the dentist's office next door, around him were the average collective of people. Some broken young rich couple in their fancy clothes, ignoring each other by staring down at their phone screen. A stressed man carrying a leather briefcase, hardly a hair on his head. He looked to his watch with a groan. Next to him sat a middle-aged woman in some god-awful sweater, covered in car-hair, digging threw her huge-ass purse for god-knows what. In the middle of it all sat Murdoc, the court had ordered him here after he punched a doctor in the nose. It wasn't his fault that the man almost told him he couldn't stay the night in the hospital room. Sure there was no blood relation, but he and 2D were family. Either way, here he was in pure agony, forced to listen to the top-40 for the last hour. If he had to hear one more song from those little squeaky brats known as One Direction, he was going to take someone out. For the moment his took he anger out on the arm-rests of his chair, dragging his cracked and worn nails across the soft wood, leaving long feline-like marks. 

He could feel cat-lady staring daggers. He glanced over to her. Did she recognize him? Noone did anymore. Especially from this side of town. They all had their heads up their asses. 

"Lovely weather we're having." Cat-Lady grinned. "Don't cha' fink?" 

He turned to face her, his face dressed in annoyance. "We live in London, you dumb broad. We never have good weather. It's bloody awful. It'll always be awful. So kindly shut the fuck up."  

Cat-Idiot looked at him with wide eyes. "Why I-!?" 

From the corner of the room a the receptionist stood up, a skinny little dame with an apathetic feeling to her. Murdoc looked to her with a hopeful gleam while Cat-Bitch sat their stuttering.  

"Mr. Niccals!" The receptionist called. 

Showtime. 

He slowly climbed to his feet with a grumble, his entire body was sore. That he blamed on his sleeping situation, not that he slept much anyways. Methodically he trudged across the office, pushing past her with a grimace. Though as soon as he touched a doorknob of the office, a polite smile was slapped on his face and he stood just a little bit taller.

"Evening Doc."