Dr. Linda Martin's office, LA, Saturday afternoon

Duke was deeply uncomfortable. Which led to a lot of fidgeting and smiling a bit to bright at everything in the cute little office. He picked at lint on the couch on either side of his legs, read all the certificates and things on the walls, and just generally did not look Linda in the eye for a good long while.

"You're, uh. Definitely not a murderous shapeshifter, right?" he asked, a nervous laugh under his voice. "Because let me tell you, that'd be just my luck. . . ."

[For the Devil's therapist and all the slowplay. NFB due to distance]