Dr. Jonathan Crane, MD - Entry 029 (Patreon)

CRANE: I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a hurry today, so you’ll forgive me if I walk and talk. Self-administration of Fear Toxin is of course, never recommended. Without proper supervision, too many unforeseen variables can arise – possible resulting in death. Or worse. That said, I have (door clicks open) on many occasion, been the test subject of my own toxins.

HENRY: Dr. Crane.

CRANE: Henry. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on your priorities, a near-constant exposure to FT has rendered my amygdala… unresponsive, making me essentially fearless. Now unlike Urbach-Wiethe disease, I am unsure as to whether or not the aforementioned amygdala could in essence reactivate if I were to spend enough time away from FT. This would require further testing. However, this is a shield that I am not yet willing to relinquish. (electronic beeps) The hell’s wrong with this damn thing? 

LYLE BOLTON: Well, well, weeeeell, look what the cat puked up. 

CRANE: Bolton.

BOLTON: Mr. Crane. 

CRANE: That’s DOCTOR Crane.

BOLTON: Well, excuse the shit outta me. Never thought I’d see you on the other side of the bars.

CRANE: You’re one to talk.

BOLTON: After all the shit that went down? Jerry needed someone who can keep order in this madhouse. 

CRANE: Well, I’m sure Blackgate was sad to lose such a… model prisoner. 

BOLTON: Ah, they shoulda let me stay here – so I could keep an eye on your freaks.

CRANE: Oh, fuck off.

BOLTON: What’d you say to me?

CRANE: I said: FUCK. OFF. 

BOLTON: You better watch your fuckin’ mouth.

CRANE: Or what? Whatcha gonna do, boy? You TOUCH me, and I’ll have you back in Blackgate so fast it’ll make your thick head spin. 

BOLTON: Careful – you ain’t the only one who knows where the bodies are buried around here.

CRANE: Oh, terrifying. 

BOLTON: I mean there’s gotta be some reason Jerry’s got you on payroll, and I’m gonna find out what it is. 

CRANE: Well hroo hraa, Lyle Bolton. 

BOLTON: The fuck does that mean?

CRANE: Hroo (voice drops to a whisper) hraa.

BOLTON: You fuckin’ freak. 

CRANE: Fix the damn door.

BOLTON: (uses radio) Jeffrey. Bolton. Door 57’s fucked again. Override Lima Bravo four niner. 

(door clicks and opens)

CRANE: That wasn’t so hard, now was it?

BOLTON: I’m watchin’ you, Crane.

CRANE: Well then you better not blink. (leans close, makes a fake-out hiss, then leaves)

BOLTON: (grumbles)