his throat and grimaced, offended that his professionalism was being doubted so freely . He adjusted his glasses once again.
“Saphora , please. Do you think I would be so foolish as to do something like that?” he asked her, shaking his head. “Honestly.”
“You were pretty quick to refuse that, though. Any reason why? Afraid he’ll ta lk about some hidden desire for violence that you might have?” Roland suggested, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair. Saphora’s gaze narrowed at the man that she had begun to detest.
“No. But maybe a lifelong hatred for close-minded, air-headed, first-year policemen,” she jabbed. Roland’s lips curled tightly in agitation, as did his left hand. Glover’s hand found Roland’s shoulder once again.
“Saphora, ” Lupin said under his breath, much like Fran would do. She acknowledged the tone, and held herself back from saying anything else. Lupin sheepishly looked up at the two officers, and attempted to follow through with Roland’s request.
“She’s been coming to me for about three years for amnesia.”
“Amnesia! How do we know that she didn’t just commit the murder and forget?” Roland accused. Saphora’s eyes snapped to his, but before she could speak up, Glover stepped in, pulling Roland up by his arm.
“ Roland . Take a walk.”
Roland didn’t argue. He knew he needed one. Not giving Saphora another glance, he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Glover groaned as he exhaled and took Roland’s seat.
“Sorry about that,” he said on behalf of his partner. Saphora neither accepted nor ignored it. Merely took it as it was. “Go on, Doctor,” Glover insisted.
“Well … As I said, Saphora has been coming to see me for a little over three years. For Amnesia ,” he explained, with a small gesture of his hand.
“And when did the amnesia start?”
“Our records say since Fran – her caretaker found her.” Lupin glanced over at the still Saphora, who was carefully watching the door to the room. “Right, Saphora?”
“Mhm ,” she said very tight lipped. She wasn’t very fond of her personal information being shared with others. And although that information was more medical than psychological, she still wanted only the minimal being shared, if not nothing at all.
“Does she remember that day? That she met Fran.”
“Yes, she does.”
Glover nodded.
“Mhm … Has there been any attempt to find her parents?” he asked, folding his hands atop the table. Saphora’s eyes narrowed in the door’s direction. She hated conversations like this. She hated being talked about like she wasn’t in the room. Like she was just some file being gone over.
“Uh, yes, but,” Lupin began, giving a side glance to Saphora. Her expression was hard, and he knew that this was a not a topic that should be pressed. Glover’s brow’s raised as he waited for the answer to the question. “No leads were ever found ,” he said, trying to put it as delicately as possibly. Saphora inhaled a long breath.
“Are they dead?” Glover asked flatly.
Lupin’s mouth fell agape at the boldness of his question, while Saphora frowned. This was not a topic that she wanted to discuss. Nor was it on that she thought had any reason to be discussed. She had done a very good job over the years distracting herself from the mystery of her parents. Where they were, if they were looking for her, and if they weren’t, wondering why they weren’t. And then there was the question that was just brought up. What if they were dead? Saphora didn’t like to think about it. Though she told herself that she was fine without her parents, she liked to think that she might one day get to meet them to at least let them know that she was alright.
“What’s the matter with you?” she spat, her eyes now locked on Glover.
“Saphora,” Lupin pleaded, even though he understood where her frustration was coming from with such a topic being handled so
“Saphora , please. Do you think I would be so foolish as to do something like that?” he asked her, shaking his head. “Honestly.”
“You were pretty quick to refuse that, though. Any reason why? Afraid he’ll ta lk about some hidden desire for violence that you might have?” Roland suggested, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair. Saphora’s gaze narrowed at the man that she had begun to detest.
“No. But maybe a lifelong hatred for close-minded, air-headed, first-year policemen,” she jabbed. Roland’s lips curled tightly in agitation, as did his left hand. Glover’s hand found Roland’s shoulder once again.
“Saphora, ” Lupin said under his breath, much like Fran would do. She acknowledged the tone, and held herself back from saying anything else. Lupin sheepishly looked up at the two officers, and attempted to follow through with Roland’s request.
“She’s been coming to me for about three years for amnesia.”
“Amnesia! How do we know that she didn’t just commit the murder and forget?” Roland accused. Saphora’s eyes snapped to his, but before she could speak up, Glover stepped in, pulling Roland up by his arm.
“ Roland . Take a walk.”
Roland didn’t argue. He knew he needed one. Not giving Saphora another glance, he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Glover groaned as he exhaled and took Roland’s seat.
“Sorry about that,” he said on behalf of his partner. Saphora neither accepted nor ignored it. Merely took it as it was. “Go on, Doctor,” Glover insisted.
“Well … As I said, Saphora has been coming to see me for a little over three years. For Amnesia ,” he explained, with a small gesture of his hand.
“And when did the amnesia start?”
“Our records say since Fran – her caretaker found her.” Lupin glanced over at the still Saphora, who was carefully watching the door to the room. “Right, Saphora?”
“Mhm ,” she said very tight lipped. She wasn’t very fond of her personal information being shared with others. And although that information was more medical than psychological, she still wanted only the minimal being shared, if not nothing at all.
“Does she remember that day? That she met Fran.”
“Yes, she does.”
Glover nodded.
“Mhm … Has there been any attempt to find her parents?” he asked, folding his hands atop the table. Saphora’s eyes narrowed in the door’s direction. She hated conversations like this. She hated being talked about like she wasn’t in the room. Like she was just some file being gone over.
“Uh, yes, but,” Lupin began, giving a side glance to Saphora. Her expression was hard, and he knew that this was a not a topic that should be pressed. Glover’s brow’s raised as he waited for the answer to the question. “No leads were ever found ,” he said, trying to put it as delicately as possibly. Saphora inhaled a long breath.
“Are they dead?” Glover asked flatly.
Lupin’s mouth fell agape at the boldness of his question, while Saphora frowned. This was not a topic that she wanted to discuss. Nor was it on that she thought had any reason to be discussed. She had done a very good job over the years distracting herself from the mystery of her parents. Where they were, if they were looking for her, and if they weren’t, wondering why they weren’t. And then there was the question that was just brought up. What if they were dead? Saphora didn’t like to think about it. Though she told herself that she was fine without her parents, she liked to think that she might one day get to meet them to at least let them know that she was alright.
“What’s the matter with you?” she spat, her eyes now locked on Glover.
“Saphora,” Lupin pleaded, even though he understood where her frustration was coming from with such a topic being handled so
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