“Oh no, you’ve got it all wrong.”
Wendy lied, her stomach churning with pain as she spoke to the man, a faint and faked curve of her lips which was a smile appeared. “I’m not gay. We’re roommates.” Typical lie in her case for anyone with an attraction to woman. Mail, and anything more came to their house. Their house. One they shared– together. “I’m sorry, I also don’t see why this is such a concern for you, Sir. Please leave, I’m in the middle of making dinner.” Another lie coming from the nervous wreck on the other side of the door whose palms became sweaty. Neither of the ladies could cook but occasionally they could try. If he was a cop, she swore to god hoped he wouldn’t smell the cannabis.
Lana and herself did not like when the community gave them such a bad reputation without formally meeting them, accusing them of being gay as it was a sin. Something for when she died she’d go straight to hell. But deep down both ladies wishes for time to pass enough so that rights were made but there weren’t enough people. Gays of any kind.
he didn’t like being told that he was in the wrong, particularly when he KNEW that was not the case. there was quite some force behind the smile to his lips, Oliver had to wear the look of innocence, of kindness... but shit it was becoming all too difficult. he wasn’t the sort to convey his aggressive tendencies in public, they were not to be on display to all; only in the privacy of his home would his hobby take centre stage. but her lies were beginning to press onto his last nerve.
“ you don’t need to lie to me, Miss, I’m not here to take you away from her, nor vice versa. I’m a psychiatrist, it’s my duty to care and give help where it’s needed. “ she might not think his smile false, none would ever have seen a warmer smile, but Oliver found relief in its short life. a hand would dive into his inside jacket pocket, where fingers pinch the corner of a small card to drag it into the open. offering it out before her, he nods as if to insist she take note of their parting gift. “ please, take it. that’s my telephone number. if you decide you’d like to seek help, you and Miss Winters, contact me. “ a quick smile is flashed before he turns and takes two steps, but he pauses. over his shoulder, a half smile is worn in warning.
“ I would consider it, if I were you, I’m obliged to keep my PATIENT’S secrets private unless the wellbeing of another person is at stake, but... I’m the sort of man who does the right thing and calls the cops when he smells cannabis. goodnight, Miss Peyser. “
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