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Dinner the next evening was a quiet affair. Though Frank, Thomas, and Jake tried their best to draw her into conversation, Geniva was withdrawn and moody by turn. When she wasn't picking listlessly at her typical salad she was staring out the window over Frank's shoulder. The only answers that she gave to the men were noncommittal, usually a shrug or a vague nod. Though the boys didn't like to see their new friend this despondent, they respected her privacy enough to quit prying her for details of what had gotten her so down.

Only when dinner was over did Geniva take Frank by the arm and lead him into the lounge that all employees had access to. The room was large but cozy, with overstuffed armchairs, a fireplace, and various tables and rugs scattered across the floor. The bookshelves that lined the walls were filled with fiction, history, and manuals. Geniva took Frank to a more secluded area and sat him down in a chair, taking the one opposite him. She scooted her chair closer toward his and leaned forward, her gaze intense.

"One of my patients has been here since she was thirteen. Seven years, Frank, seven years. How can this be? How could she have been brought here at such a young age? Why wasn't she put in a juvenile home?"

Frank, for all his kindness, looked lost.

"Listen to this..."

* * *

Geniva had spent the morning with two more of her patients, though she hadn't gleamed much information from them. If she had expected each of them to be as open with her as Elliot had she was sorely mistake. She spent an hour with a grizzly named Kunwio, each minute more frustrating than the last. He was unlike any grizzly that she had seen before. A shock of reddish brown head surrounded his head; it looked rather similar to a lion's mane. His eyes were large and, strangely, pure white. He had neither iris nor pupil, but she knew he was looking at her.

The bear refused to speak to her. He sat on his cot the entire time that she spoke to him, staring at her as if he didn't understand a word that she was saying. She had seen the crime scene photos, as gruesome as those that belonged Elliot. Kunwio had been a hit man for a rather influential family in New York. He wasn't chosen for his daring, his cunning, or his sly wit. He was chosen for his size and the sheer strength that he commanded, the ability to rip his victims limb from limb without the assistance of tools. He was chosen for his lack of mercy.

Unlike Elliot, Kunwio wasn't simply a sociopath. Geniva wasn't entirely sure what he was. The last psychiatrist hadn't left many notes on him. Apparently the bear had been found gnawing on the leg bone of the female child of one of his employer's enemies. He hadn't said a word when they found him. He hadn't defended himself in court and hadn't spoken since he'd been tossed into his cell. Though Geniva's predecessor had tried everything he could think of to get the prisoner to talk he remained obstinately silent. Geniva hadn't had any more luck, though she had to admit that she'd thrown in the towel early.

He had looked at her as she spoke, his face blank. Geniva wondered if he even understood the language that she spoke or if he was some sort of foreigner that didn't grasp the intricacies of English. He hadn't moved, had simply stared. It was unnerving.

Across the hall from Kunwio a rather twitchy black fox watched Geniva, pacing back and forth in his cell as she spoke to the bear. When she eventually turned her attention to him he seemed no less nervous. He had responded to her questions, at least, though his statements constantly contradicted themselves. She knew he was a schizophrenic; even if she could get a straight answer out of him it wouldn't necessarily be the truth.

Mist was the name he responded to, though his file said Julius Krafton. Geniva didn't know where he picked up Mist from; he'd been less than forthcoming on that particular subject. His file was thin, lacking even a reason for his incarceration. He said he'd been here for five years, but a second later changed his mind to two months. Geniva knew she'd have to check with the warden to see if she could get anymore information on him; she didn't know why it was missing in the first place.

Around noon Geniva took a short break from her patients, frustrated that she hadn't managed to get anywhere with Kunwio or Mist. After a light lunch and a long walk to stretch her legs, Geniva returned to work. Johnson and Edwards hadn't been openly hostile with her that day, though she could hear them muttering to each other and a see them exchange sidelong glances when they thought she wasn't looking. She tried not to let it bother her.

The next patient that Geniva visited was on the second floor. She was pleased to see that it was more well kept than the floor below it. Indeed, what she referred to as the the "circle room" downstairs was a furnished waiting room up here, complete with fake plants and wooden arms chairs. It wasn't exactly perfect, but at least it was an improvement.

Geniva didn't need to be buzzed into the individual wings on the second floor. Johnson carried a key ring that got them in easily enough. As she had with the downstairs wings, Geniva took her time looking around. The unoccupied cells were just as dirty as those on the first floor, though she was surprised to see that one of the shower stalls up here worked.

The patient that she had come to see was roomed at the beginning of the hall nearest the door. Her cell was typical: cot on one wall, toilet on another, the sole window barred. Geniva was only mildly surprised to see that the patient huddled on the floor was female, a feline, and pink. Her ears perked up when Geniva stopped outside her cage and she looked up with guileless chocolate eyes, tail twitching behind her. She offered Geniva a friendly smile.

"Hello, Miss Crusox."

"Hi, bunny," the girl replied shyly. She peered up at Geniva from between her lashes.

"My name is Miss Hart," Geniva continued. "I'm your new psychiatrist."

"Bunny play with Kitty?" the feline asked, holding up the crayons and paper she'd been working with. Geniva assumed that the girl had gotten the items from her previous psychiatrist, perhaps because of good behavior. None of the other patients had any sort of entertainment in their cells. Geniva was rather surprised to see the multitude of papers taped to the far wall of the girl's cell. Looking closer she saw that each was a drawing of a pair of hands of all shapes and sizes, some human and some anthro. The drawings even included hooves and webbed fingers.

"Of course," Geniva answered, accepting the paper and crayons that Miss Crusox held through the bars. The cat's hands lingered on Geniva's a few beats too long. Geniva didn't comment.

She spent some time with Crusox, watching the girl continue to draw the pair of hands that she had been working on. Her attention to detail was astounding; she included fine lines that Geniva would have otherwise not noticed, made perfectly symmetrical nails, and shaded wherever she saw fit. On the rare occasion she made an error she'd carefully erase the offending line and blow on the eraser marks to clear them from her paper, then start again. She hummed as she worked; it was actually quite nice, Geniva admitted.

"Done!" the feline announced some time later. She clambered to her feet and pressed herself against the bars, sliding her arms through and shoving her paper in Geniva's face. "See?"

"Very nice," Geniva told her. And it was. The hands that she had drawn had been cut off by the paper just beyond the wrists, but everything that she'd included looked as real as a photograph. "Whose hands are those?"

"The man's." Crusox retreated into her cell and laid the picture on her cot, sitting beside it. She twined her tail around her legs and stared through the bars of her cell at Geniva.

"What man?"

"Kitty no know," the girl said. "Bye bunny," she added, turning her back to Geniva.

Geniva stood, sliding the paper and crayons that she'd been given into her files on Crusox. She supposed she was dismissed. She turned to go when a voice called out from farther down the hall.

"Hey, Hart, leavin' so soon?"

Geniva paused, turning in the direction of the female voice. She moved down the hall toward the source and stopped outside the last cell on the left, peering inside. Whatever she had expected to see, it was definitely not a very nude, very female red panda sprawled on her cot. Her legs were spread obscenely, one knee draped over the side of her cot, her foot swinging to and fro. Her tail was curled languidly around her waist.

The panda sat up slowly when Geniva paused outside her cell, scooting backwards on her cot until she could lean against the far wall. She smiled, showing teeth.

"And here I thought you'd leave without sayin' goodbye," the panda cooed.

"I had planned on seeing you tomorrow," Geniva told her.

"Aw, babe, you're breakin' my heart. What's wrong with now? Pull up a chair, take a load off."

Geniva didn't see the harm in staying. She had another hour yet before dinner; surely she could spare a bit of time with another patient. This one, it seemed, was at least willing to speak to her. She excused herself and walked down the hall toward the feline's cell to retrieve her chair. She set it down in front of the panda and seated herself, crossing one leg over the other and opening her file on her lap.

"You'd be Bianca, then." She glanced up to see the panda nod her head.

"You like some kind of genius, Hart?" Bianca drawled. "There's two chicks in this joint. Kitty's one. I guess that makes me the other one then, huh?"

Geniva was rather amused by the girl's attitude. It was nice to see that prison hadn't broken her completely and that she still retained a little of her former spunk. Her file said she'd used to be an exotic dancer; she definitely had the personality for it. Geniva could almost see her cracking her gum.

"Crusox prefers to be called Kitty?" Geniva asked, feigning ignorance.

"Well, duh. She talks about herself in third person and that's the only name she uses." She leaned forward. "I think she's crazy, doc," Bianca whispered, widening her eyes and nodding seriously.

"Was there something you wanted from me, Bianca?"

The panda rolled to her feet and lifted her arms above her head, yawning as she stretched. Her tail uncurled from around her waist and flipped out behind her as she stalked forward, taking hold of the bars of her cell.

"Can't we just talk, Hart?" She pressed herself against the bars of her cage, reaching through and holding out her hand. "Just us two girls. I've kept my cot warm for you."

"You coming on to me, Bianca?" Geniva asked with a half-smile, cocking her brows. This was...unexpected.

"Yes, ma'am. Whaddaya say? Want a girls night?" She cocked her head to the side and flicked her tongue across her lips. "I could give you all sorts of dirty secrets."

"Oh?" Geniva asked, leaning forward. "What kinds of secrets?"

"You know," Bianca giggled, "this and that. I hear a lot. You'd be surprised what the guards say when they're walking us to the showers." Realizing Geniva wasn't about to take her hand anytime soon, Bianca curled her arm around the bar in front of her and let her head drop forward against her wrist. "They're rather loose tongued once I get in there and start soaping up. They hate us, you know, but you can tell they're all curious about what it'd be like. I saw that guy walking behind you when you were checking out the showers earlier. Looked like he wanted a piece of tail."

Geniva surprised herself by laughing.

"Johnson?" she asked, incredulous. "Hardly. I believe I've told him off a few too many times for him to have any interest in me. If he had his way he'd throw me in there next to you."

"I wouldn't mind." Bianca batted her lashes at Geniva. "Give me thirty minutes and you'd never look at another man again," she promised. "Unless, of course, you wanted to bring one in with you. I'm okay with that."

"I'm sure you'd make it an enjoyable evening. Can I get back to you on that?"

Bianca nodded eagerly. "Just don't keep me waiting too long, sweetheart."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Bianca sauntered back to her cot and flopped down, arms and legs akimbo once more. She glanced at Geniva from time to time, though for the most part her attention stayed on the ceiling. Geniva was content to watch her, guessing that her affinity for hearing her own voice would get her chattering again in no time. Sure enough, only five minutes went by before the panda sat up and swung her legs over the side of her cot, sitting on her hands. Her eyes darted from the floor to Geniva's face.

"Ain'tcha gonna try to get inside my head, Hart?"

"Actually, Bianca, I was hoping you'd be able to help me get inside Kitty's. You've been with her for how long?"

"Um...I've been here three years. But she was here longer."

"Have you ever spoken to her?"

"Not really." Bianca shrugged. "She said something about her birthday once, but that was a couple years ago. Something about being an adult. I don't think she's very adult-like. She colors. With crayons. Hands. Lots of hands. She did mine once. A man brought me over to her cell and had me stand still while she drew them. It was weird." Bianca slid her fingers through her fur and bit her lip. "Why do you want to talk about that silly girl when we could be talking about me? It makes me think you don't like me, Hart."

"On the contrary, Bianca. I just had a few questions to ask about Kitty to get out of the way today so that next time it can be all about you. I'd hate to interrupt girl time with talk of another woman..."

* * *

"Girl time, huh?" Frank asked, grinning cheekily. Geniva glowered at him.

"Sometimes I need to humor my patients. If it gets her to talk then good for me. That's not the point. Did you hear what I said about Bianca's recollection of a few years ago? 'Kitty said something about being an adult.' It sounded weird, so I did some digging." Geniva hefted the bag that she carried onto her lap and pulled out the file on Crusox. She flipped through it until she found what she was looking for.

"Look at this," she said, handing over the page.

Frank took the offered paper and scanned the top of it. Name, crime, disability, date admitted...

"'03?" he asked. "So you're right, she's been here for seven years."

"Look further." Geniva leaned forward, pointing out another line. "There."

"Born in '90," he read.

"It's like I said earlier, Frank. Kitty has been here since she was thirteen. This page wasn't originally with the rest of hers. I found it when I was going through her old psychiatrist's stuff. I don't know why it wasn't with the rest of hers, unless she was brought here illegally. She's just a child, Frank. She thinks she's five years old. She sits on the floor and colors and calls me 'bunny.'"

Geniva sighed and took back the paper, sliding it into the folder and then into her bag. She leaned backwards in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.

"It doesn't make any sense. Why here?"