(Untitled)

[skidrowseymour]

One good thing about living your entire life in one area is that you know where things are. On his lunch break, Seymour determines the quickest route to the dentist's - he has time left over to make a few stops along the way, picking up sheets, rope

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[f33dm3]

It's not a happy looking office. Or a happy sounding one, either; the screeching drill and screams of pain from the exam room combine into an ear-piercing noise that's impossible to ignore or tune out. And the muzak doesn't help matters either.

Eventually, the noise dies down and a voice calls from the exam room: "NEXT!"

[skidrowseymour]

Seymour swallows and takes a few hesitant steps across the lobby. "I guess that's me, Dr. Scrivello," he says, somewhat breathlessly.

[f33dm3]

Orin Scrivello (D.D.S.) is standing near the door, dressed in a white smock with a leather apron over the top. "Do you have an appointment?" he asks without looking up from the large, pointy metal object he's cleaning.

[skidrowseymour]

Seymour's tongue is sticking to the roof of his mouth. He desperately needs some water. He felt this way back at the Home when Little Jimmy and his gang came towards him; felt this way when Mr. Mushnik glares at him. He tries to swallow again.

"N-No. We met yesterday. Seymour Krelborn." He's too far away to hold his hand out to shake, and wouldn't if he weren't.