guess i'm doing fine,

[Lysander]

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Lysander chuckled as Giggle climbed into the chair, drunk coyotes were fun. “Only them crazy head doctors use couches.” He moved away and opened a cabinet, pretending to be busy looking for tools. “Why, you need one of them?” Lysander smiled to himself, turned away from Giggle so that the male couldn’t see. He probably would have only mistaken it for a friendly gesture anyway. Pretending to be a psychologist would be ten times as much fun, giving people advice they asked for, and the wrong kind at that, was right up Lysander’s alley. However he doubted many canines came looking for help from strangers, they liked their fucked up lives too much. It was a pity, Lysander was sure he would hear some funny stories and give some great advice in return. Picking up a small, round mirror with a long bent handle, Lysander smiled, putting it away in his pouch. He pulled forth sharp picks and prods and items he didn’t know what they were but if they interested him enough he put them in his bag as well. Then he found the small surgical sharp knife and pressing it against his skin he found it to be in good condition. Ly watched as the small trickle of blood from the cut he made got mixed into his fur, he’d let it dry that way. Moving over to Giggle, he cut the sling away with the knife, liking the way the fabric cut so quickly. “Well make you a new one. Yup.” And then he pressed his hands firmly around the arm, right where the break was. He squeezed. “This hurt?”

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