Impulsive

Mind Reading Doctor?

(Chapter summary: Struggling is key to Arthur, even if it's not working, he'll just try, try, again.)

He opened his eyes and quickly closed them, everything was so blotchy and bright that it strained his eyes. Arthur squinted and lifted one side of his mouth, where are his glasses?

“Hello, Mr. Hastings,” someone said as he could hear about four sets of footsteps and see three heads.

Either someone was a midget, or they’re staying in his blind spots, which right now, is everywhere.

“Is he blind?” One asked, turning their head to look at the person in the middle.

“No, he’s missing his glasses.” The person, who from the lack of boobs he identified as a male, pointed up to the ceiling. “Stand him up would you?” He was suddenly grabbed from behind.

Yeah, that fourth mystery person was staying behind him. He yelped as they sat him up, he yanked his shoulders from their grasp and tried to move his ankle to stand, he gasped from the pain. He did not expect that.

“Hold him.” Arthur growled lowly (I find animalistic and childish characters to be very fun) and tried to fight them off. Emphasis on tried .

The one behind him (who from the gold glint on three of the people, figured out were most likely some rendition of a bobby) went for his shoulders ent for his shoulders He kicked and shook someone off who what trying to hold down his feet, Arthur screamed as they grabbed his ankle in a death grip

“Don’t touch his right.” The other non-bobby chimed in over his screaming and struggling.

Arthur reached up and scratched the fourth bobby’s face and down his forearms to make him let go and hiss. He sat up and punched the ankle grabbing bobby in the cheek bone, his own hand stung but survival came first. The other bobby stepped in and grabbed Arthur’s sides, pulling him back until he was nearly falling off of the bed. The said bobby lifted him and linked his arms over Arthur’s shoulders and behind his neck, forcing Arthur’s head down, very uncomfortable. Arthur thrashed, screamed, yelled swears, bit, and kicked but nothing seemed to work.

“Shit, man,” one bobby said while catching his breath.

“Get the medicine,” the doctor (from the white long coat) said. “Extra glasses and maybe some restraints too.” Ankle grabber nodded and strode out, probably embarrassed that he got his ass kicked by a scrawny guy.

Arthur picked up his thrashing again as he completely lifted his feet off of the ground and rolled his head around, bending his body in weird angles to try to get freed.

“Thank you, Constable Watts.” Ah, so ankle grabber’s last name is Watts. Wonderful to know.

Arthur grumbled when he was laid down on the bed with his arms being held above his head. They put him in a strangely comfortable straight-jacket. It was quite lovely if he was being honest; the leather straps holding his hands to his chest were on the looser side of things, all of the leather had protective strips wrapped around the edges to keep away from rubbing his skin off. Though he growled and tried to pull it off, the only things that annoyed him about it was that if something arises he couldn’t move, and also that his suit didn’t feel nice below it, his tie was pulled tight from the struggle and was suffocating him. He pulled his hands foreword and he pulled his back away, trying to break the seams, he coughed as the tie was pulled tighter. Trying to claw at his neck looked more like struggling than anything, so the doctor and bobbies all ignored it. The doctor walked over to a counter and pulled out a pill bottle.

“Give this t’him twice a day, morning at night.” The doctor said as he walked over to Arthur, slipping on new glasses.

It seemed like it wasn’t the right prescription, everything was still more blurry than clear.

“We’ll be able to get you new glasses with the right prescription soon, tomorrow or somethin’ like that.” Arthur looked up at him quizzically, ‘ can this asshole read my mind ??’