My Muse

But the photoshoot came to a very unpleasant end.

"W14A! You've gone over your allotted time to be here! Report back to-" a doctor barged in on Emily and Thompson just in time to see the two of them waltzing around the room like buffoons. The moment Emily and Thompson caught sight of his outraged face, Emily dropped Thompson's hands as though they were burning coals, but she stepped protectively in front of him. It was a small, subtle change, but she stood in front of him with both her arms slightly extended as though she was going to shield him.

"What in God's name-?" the doctor sounded hoarse, as though what he had witnessed had been the scandal of the century.

"I am afraid this is all my fault, my good sir," Thompson spoke up bravely, then he brushed right past Emily's attempts to protect him and he missed feeling her tug at his sleeve, silently begging him to reign in and calm back down before he got in trouble too. Emily didn't think she could bear it if anything were to happen to him, especially not if it was because of her. She could handle her own punishment, which she was sure she would receive after today's little stunt, but what about Thompson? But as always, Thompson was ignorant to the subtle messages she was trying to send him and he, quite boisterously, took the blame for what the doctor had just walked in on.

"We were discussing the kind of photos I wanted to take and I mentioned the idea of dancing to Emily because I know you have a great performing arts group in your asylum and I was trying to show her some of the dances I knew, personally," he said as he approached the doctor.

"You aren't supposed to discuss with your subjects, you are just supposed to take their pictures!" the doctor snarled in reply, cutting Thompson off and destroying his jovial mood. Thompson wilted as the severity of the situation finally sank into his head. Behind him, Emily fought hard not to hide her face behind her hands in embarrassment and horror.

"Remember, son, you are hired to do your job, not fraternize with the inmates!" the doctor growled threateningly.

"But I wasn't frat-" Thompson really was an idiot to try and defend his position, no matter how just it would be for him to do.

"You aren't supposed to talk to the girls and you most certainly aren't supposed to dance with them! They are not conversation pieces for you! You're supposed to do the work yourself! You have a job to do! You are here to take their pictures and that is all! Anything else is what we are not paying you to do and if you keep it up, I will find a better and more professional man to take your place, got it, boy?" the doctor bellowed, cutting Thompson off again. He proceeded to call Thompson stupid, lazy, perverted, unprofessional and inept, and threatened to have him fired.

"But they have provided marvelously inspiration in the past and Emily is my muse," Thompson began. "Your girls aren't stupid-"

"YOU BLITHERING IDIOT!" the doctor thundered again. "Why would you ever trust a girl's word for anything, let alone a mad one?!" and at last, Thompson seemed to remember where he was and he wilted again, dropping his eyes submissively. The doctor was still outraged beyond words, but seeing that this idiot boy wasn't going to argue anymore calmed him down at least a little.

"I trust you can find your way out?" he growled dangerously.

"Yes sir," Thompson replied, then he quietly packed his things and left as fast as he could. Emily watched him go miserably, wishing that they could've hugged goodbye, and wishing that she could've protected him better. If anything happened to him now, it would be all her fault. She didn't think she could bear the idea. She could only shoot Thompson one sad, helpless, apologetic glance before the doctor grabbed her arm and began to drag her away, already snarling threats and grim promises of punishment to her as they left the room, but she didn't hear a word he said. Her only thoughts were of the man she was leaving behind, Thompson.