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Breakfast the next morning was a modest affair. Geniva had woken early to prepare herself for her first day of work, dressing demurely in charcoal slacks and a soft pink blouse that put some color in her cheeks. Not knowing what to expect on her first day she slipped a lab coat over her blouse and tucked her ID into the front pocket of the coat, slinging a bag over her shoulder with her case files inside of it. She had been among the first of the staff members in the cafeteria, choosing to sit by herself with her plate of eggs, hash browns, and toast. Geniva had placed herself in an optimal position to survey the rest of the room; she watched people come and go as she sipped her coffee, observing their patterns and habits.

The entire asylum staff numbered some 50 people. Of those, perhaps a third were orderlies, nurses, or doctors. The rest were guards, maintenance men, cooks, and janitors. Geniva was not surprised to see that each group tended to stick together and dine with fellow nurses or janitors. A comfort thing, she knew. People were drawn to others that shared their same interests or experiences; it was no wonder that two cooks who knew each other from work would choose to sit together during meals.

This early in the morning chatter was subdued, limited to a brief greeting or asking after. Geniva saw more than a few curious glances tossed her way, though she didn't let it bother her. She was new, after all.

"Is this seat taken?"

Geniva hadn't even heard an approach. She looked up to see the man from last night standing at her elbow, gesturing toward the chair next to her as he balanced two plates and a cup of coffee in his hands. Uncertainly, Geniva shook her head.

"No, please, sit down."

"Thanks." The man hooked his foot around the leg of the chair and yanked it backwards, dropping into it and setting his plate down in front of him. He smiled, showing dimples, and offered a hand.

"I'm Frank."

"Geniva." She shook his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Geniva. Well, I suppose technically we met last night, but I figured a more proper introduction was warranted." Geniva felt a blush grace her cheeks at the memory. Frank's grin widened. "No need to be embarrassed, sweetheart. Happens all the time. You get used to it after a while. First night here I was ogling every woman that walked by. Now I hardly notice 'em." Frank had a rather pronounced southern drawl; despite the awkwardness of their initial meeting, Geniva couldn't help but be lulled into comfort by his voice. He seemed genuine enough.

"Good to know I'm not the only one that was thrown off balance by the whole thing," she said, warming up toward Frank. "It was rather disconcerting to learn I'd be sharing a bathroom with so many people. I'm used to privacy. I also wasn't expecting men."

Frank nodded thoughtfully as he chewed the forkful of potatoes he'd just shoveled into his mouth. He swallowed noisily and gulped down a quarter of his coffee.

"There's ten of us in that building," he informed her. "If you're lookin' for a time to shower when no one is around I'd say right after dinner. People usually hang around here before turning in for the night. Granted, now that I told you that I might have to lurk in the corner around that time and look out for you." He wiggled his brows at her; she found herself blushing again, unable to come up with a crafty response. "You're a doll," he mused. "There are two other women that share the housing with you, if that helps any."

"Oh, yes," Geniva said mildly. "Always good to know I'm not the only one being ogled."

"That's the ticket!"

Geniva surprised herself by laughing. She hadn't expected to fit in so easily among the humans. Growing up she had often been the subject of jokes and cruel pranks; she'd almost expected the same sorts of things here, whether or not they were adults. She'd found that humans didn't change much.

"So you're the new psychiatrist?" Frank asked after a few moments of companionable silence. Geniva nodded as she swallowed her mouthful of eggs.

"Yes and no. I have never before made a living as a psychiatrist. I was a nurse in an emergency room until last month, but I'm licensed, so that counts for something." She took a sip of coffee, her gaze thoughtful. "What is it that you do, Frank?"

"Maintenance. I was an electrician before I took up this job. Now I can turn my hand to almost anything. Building repair, plumbing, you name it. I'm a bit of jack-of-all-trades." He grinned, flashing those dimples again. _Charming, indeed. _"What do you think of the place so far?"

"Well since I've been here for less than twenty-four hours I'm not entirely sure any views I have right now would be entirely accurate. It's not what I expected, I'll tell you that much." Geniva paused, unsure of how to proceed. "I wasn't aware that the buildings here would be so dated. It's sad to know how little funding places like this receive." She glanced at Frank, watching him clear the remainder of his first plate. "I'm not complaining by any means, please don't take it that way. I just hope I'm able to provide adequate treatment for my patients."

"Begging your pardon, Geniva, but if you ask me none of your patients should be getting any help."

Geniva opened her mouth but Frank cut her off.

"I'm not saying that because they're furs. I don't have anything against you guys; I had a girlfriend that was a fur once. Cheeky little fox; I was sad to see her go. So don't take it that way. I only say what I do because I've overheard the warden talking to the guards. All of yours are in maximum security holding. I heard one of them is even muzzled and chained to a wall. I haven't seen the case files myself, but you know how it is with rumors." Frank glanced around, lowering his voice. "They say some real terrible things about those guys. Did the warden tell you why they needed someone new for the furs?"

Geniva shook her head, interested despite herself.

"All I know is that there were some sort of riots."

"Yeah, there were." Frank's voice was dark. "One of the anthros got out. No one knows who or how, but once he was out he let the others loose. By the time anyone realized what was happening five guards were down and the doctor's throat had been torn out. We got them all back, but it wasn't without cost."

"That's terrible," Geniva breathed.

"Yeah. Warden still doesn't know how the first one managed to get the keys to the cells; there were no broken bars or forced escapes. The doors were just open. Bit of a wonder they didn't turn on each other, if I'm going to be honest." He took a swig of his coffee. "I didn't mean to scare you, ma'am. Just thought you should know."

"No, no, I appreciate your honesty. If anything I think I don't take this seriously enough. It's hard to remember where I am. A little bit of wariness isn't going to hurt me."

Frank nodded, returning to his breakfast. Geniva found that she had suddenly lost her appetite and picked listlessly at her eggs. When Frank sought to engage her in conversation again he kept it light, perhaps sensing that she was uncomfortable after learning of the demise of the previous psychiatrist. He told her about his life before he'd come here and briefly mentioned a kid he had in another state. He spent some time asking after her as well, wanting to know what she'd done before she came here and what it was like being among so many humans. Geniva was polite enough in regards to that question; she could hardly tell him that being among his kind put her on edge, that she found them narrow-minded and afraid of change.

"Shame about the hospital," Frank was saying when Geniva noticed another man approaching their table. He was a large, brawny man with no neck and small eyes. He wore the tan uniform of the prison guard; a pistol was holstered on his right hip, a billy club and handcuffs on the other side. He was scowling as he approached. Geniva recognized the look, having been on the receiving end of it many times before: distaste.

"You the new doctor?" the guard asked gruffly.

"Only new face around, ain't she?" Frank grinned. The guard didn't spare him a glance. He didn't look like the type that appreciated wit.

"Yes," Geniva said. She held out her hand. "I'm Miss Hart. What can I do for you?"

The guard looked at her offered hand, disgust written plain across his face. He didn't move to shake her hand; after a minute Geniva let it fall back to her lap, a bitter taste in her mouth.

"I'm your guard," the man said. "For when you go visiting the petting zoo. Didn't know you were one of them freaks, too."

"Watch your mouth, Johnson," Frank growled.

The guard glanced at him for the first time.

"Stay outta this, maintenance man. Ain't none of your business. Little bitch belongs behind bars, too. Lock 'em all up in cages. Fucking animals."

Frank shoved back from the table, chair legs screeching loudly against the linoleum floor. He rose angrily.

"Why I oughtta - "

"Enough!" Geniva snapped, rising to her feet and flicking her gaze between the two men. "Frank, I appreciate your concern, but I can fight my own battles. I've been doing it long enough. And you." She turned an angry glare on the guard. "You will refrain from speaking to me that way. I will not tolerate verbal assault or derogatory comments toward myself or my patients. You'll treat me with the respect that I deserve or I'll go to your supervisor about it. Is that clear?"

Johnson's eyes narrowed. He wasn't too keen on the idea of being subservient to some furry, but this was his job. He had to follow orders, distasteful as they were. He forced himself to nod.

"Good." Geniva leaned forward to pick up her plate and coffee mug. "I have work to get to. Thank you for dining with me, Frank. I'm sure I'll see you at lunch." She smiled at him before walking away to deposit her dishes on a shelf near the trash cans, the guard trailing at her heels. He wore his scowl all the way to ward B, where the maximum security patients were held.

Ward B was tucked off by itself on a seldom-visited corner of the grounds. A half-mile long path stretched between the cafeteria and the front door of the ward, broken occasionally by a fallen branch or large rock. Geniva made a note to have the way cleared; she didn't want to suffer a broken neck if she found herself walking the trail at night. To the left of the path was the same forest that she could see from her room; to the right was open land where the more docile patients enjoyed their small snatches of freedom.

"If you're going to tag along behind me all day while I do my job you're going to have to get used to how I run things," Geniva informed her guard as they crossed the grounds. "I rise early. I work early. I assume that you're to be with me at all times while I deal with these patients; we'll get a schedule set up so you know when to be here. When I tell you to do something, you're going to do it. When I ask you a question, you're going to answer it." She paused as they reached the metal doors that led to the ward, letting him step in front of her to unlock them. She was somewhat surprised that he bothered to hold the door open for her; she offered a quiet word of thanks and set off through the ward.

Geniva had half expected to enter immediately into a long hall with cells on either side. Instead she found herself walking a narrow, dimly lit corridor. The monotony of the gray floor and gray walls was broken periodically by barred, square windows set perhaps five inches from the ceiling. They were small enough that even if the bars hadn't been there escape would have been nigh impossible. Twenty feet into the corridor the guard was required to open another heavy, metal door; an additional door was set another twenty feet from the second. Instead of opening the door with a set of keys the guard pressed a small button set into the wall below a speaker. Geniva could hear a distant buzz, and a moment later the speaker crackled.

"Name and business," a voice said.

"Hart and escort. She's the new doctor." Johnson held down the button as he spoke. The intercom was silent for a minute while the inside guard presumably checked his paperwork. He buzzed them in a moment later.

Geniva found herself in a roughly circular room perhaps fifty feet in diameter. It shared the same gray color scheme as the hallway from whence she'd come. Aside from the desk a guard sat at the room was relatively bare. She felt Johnson brush past her toward the desk to confer with his colleague; she ignored them, stepping into the middle of the room and taking a few minutes to look around her.

The layout wasn't what she'd been expecting. To her right were two flights of stairs, the flight that lead down set against the wall. She moved closer and peered down the flight of stairs, but whatever was at its base was hidden by an inky darkness. Geniva hoped that no prisoners were kept down there in the dark.

She continued along this side of the room. Beyond the stairs leading to the second floor were two doors. She opened the first and found the light switch on the wall, peering into what appeared to be a combination janitorial office and supply room. The room was an estimated ten feet long and wide. Shelves lined the walls, holding all sorts of things from spare bedding to mops. Towels were stacked neatly next to a box of toothpaste. Along the far wall was a hamper filled with dirty jumpsuits. She was surprised to see the red and the black in the hamper; all of the patients she had observed yesterday had been wearing yellow. She supposed it probably had something to do with security level. Maybe only the yellow-clad patients were allowed outside.

Geniva backed out of the room after flipping off the lights and shut the door. She glanced over her shoulder at the two guards. They were still standing at the desk, talking in low voices and sending openly hostile glances in her direction. If either were bothered by her snooping around they made no comment. She squared her shoulders and stepped into the next room. A bathroom. A rather dirty bathroom, come to that. It was about the same size as the supply closet with a toilet on one side and a sink directly across from it. A half-wall, similar to the one in Geniva's bathroom, separated the toilet from the shower head and drain.

At least whoever uses this gets to shower alone, _Geniva thought wryly. _Though it could use with a good bit of cleaning before I'd undress in it.

The floor and walls of the bathroom were covered by the same tile that had probably once been white. Now it was a dull yellow, even brown in some areas. Cobwebs clung to the corners of the room and soap scum was evident near the shower. Holes had been cut into the tiling along the far wall, which Geniva assumed were used for placing towels, soap, and other various items that someone would bring into the shower. A small, square peg next to the holes was probably where they'd hang their change of clothes.

Finished with her scan of the bathroom, Geniva returned to the circular room, eyes darting to the guards. They seemed to have ceased their earlier discussion and were now watching something on the television set on the desk. Both guards looked up when they heard Geniva approach.

"I assume, from the look of those doors, that you're going to need to buzz me in so that I may speak with my patients," she said upon reaching them.

The guard that was seated behind the desk grunted. Geniva's spine stiffened. She leaned forward, placing her hands against the desk, and glared at the guard opposite her. She flicked her eyes toward the ID that hung around his neck.

"I'm surprised at you, Edwards. Do you really want to lose your job over something as silly as showing a little respect? I'm sure this is the only thing you're qualified for, being a nigger and all."

"You little - "

"Oho, touched a nerve there, did I? A bit hypocritical, don't you think? You're allowed to hate me because I look different, but if I say anything I'm wrong?" Geniva pushed back from the desk, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "You'd think that you and I had something in common, being a different race and all, but I can already tell you're a narrow-minded bigot like the rest of them, so I'm going to tell you how things are going to work. My name is Miss Hart. I work here now. I am in charge of this ward and these patients. We're going to be seeing a lot of each other in the next few months, and when we do I'd prefer that things be pleasant. That means when I ask you a question, you're going to answer me in a respectful tone. When I tell you to open the door, you're going to do it, and you're going to do it quickly. If you don't I have absolutely no qualms letting the warden know that one of his guards is slacking off. Oh, don't look at Johnson like that, he received a similar speech earlier."

Geniva didn't care that she was the new girl and possibly overstepping her boundaries. She was tired of being treated as less than a person, tired of the nasty glares and tongue-wagging. She had been a fool if she'd expected differently from this place. Wishful thinking, that's all that was.

"Let's try this again. Who's in charge of the restroom to my right?"

"I am," Edwards muttered.

"And who uses it?"

"The animals."

"Anthros, Edwards. The correct term is anthros. You'll refer to them as such from now on," Geniva snapped. "The bathroom is filthy. Which janitor is responsible for cleaning it?"

There was a moment of silence. Geniva arched her brows at the guard.

"No one," Edwards finally said. "None of the janitors come out here for that. I keep it stocked, but it ain't my job to clean it."

"I see." Geniva would need to speak with the warden about the conditions of the restroom. There was no reason that it should be so dirty; scrubbing it even once a week would at least keep it clean enough for use. She pulled the files that she had brought from her shoulder bag, flipping open the first one she came to. Elliot Clefthaven. He'd do.

She shut the file and glanced back at the guard.

"I'm meeting with my patients today. Some of them haven't been cleared to be removed from their cells. Others have. Tell me, Edwards, where am I to take the ones that are allowed out and about?"

The guard stared at her as if he didn't understand.

"Take them out?" he finally sputtered. "Why would you want to do that? They're not safe."

"I believe that decision is mine to make," Geniva said firmly. "Answer the question."

"Nowhere. There's nowhere for them. All we ever do is bring them out for showers and put them back away."

Another thing I'll need to bring to the warden's attention, I suppose.

"Very well. Where is Elliot Clefthaven?"

The guard glanced down at a sheet of paper on his desk, scanning for the name.

"Cell 102. Through that door right there." Edwards pointed toward the wall across from the entryway. "I'll buzz you in," he added.

Geniva murmured a thanks and walked across the room toward the door. This was it. She was meeting her patients today. She was more nervous than she cared to admit; this would be the first time that she had ever dealt with someone classified as insane, criminally or not. She took a deep breath as she reached the door, Johnson just behind her. The buzzer sounded.

She opened the door and stepped inside.