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[abrightboy]

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[conning]

"Counseling office?" For a baffled moment he doesn't know what Malcolm is asking about, if for the simple reason that he has one mental track to operate from and it's currently occupied by worry. "Counseling--oh. I, yes, I did, I am, I. Sometimes. They want to, want me to."

[abrightboy]

"Did they give you a diagnosis or did you not go back for the assessment yet?" Malcolm asks.

[conning]

He bobs back and forth a little, hanging on, agitated and wondering why they're talking about this n-- "Why are we talking about this now?"

Brain to mouth filter: gone.

[abrightboy]

“A couple of reasons: you were spiralling and if you’d had the assessment I’d know what kind of spiral we were dealing with and also you’re not spiralling anymore.”

They reach the room with the games.

“Which machine were you on?”

[conning]

"I. Oh. Um."

He tries to process the first part and gets distracted by the second part, the question. He clambers down off Malcolm's shoulder and zooms over to the machine in question.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm steps over to it, examining it. He tries to pry the cover off, but it won't come. He glances around for anything he can use to break into it, but doesn't see anything that he could use to jailbreak it. He takes to examining the screen and menu and buttons instead.

[conning]

And while Malcolm is doing that....

Neal disappears.

Led off into the museum by weasely curiosity.

[abrightboy]

"Did you see a...."

Malcolm turns as he talks, then realizes he's talking to air. He gets up, glances around.

"Neal?"

He sighs heavily, because he doesn't know which door Neal ran from. So he picks one and heads into the hall.

"NEAL?"

[conning]

[continued here]