Rebuilding Base is Under Construction

Doctor Quezel's silence was taken as approval by Zhang Dianyu.

He opened the plan panel and saw that after being suspended for a week, there were a lot more prisoners in line for drug addiction treatment and alcoholism mutual aid associations.

But there is only one psychologist in the prison at this time.His current work is arranged by Zhang Dianyu to focus on behavioral therapy, providing psychological counseling for prisoners with violent tendencies.

So no one will host the alcohol abstention party for now.Zhang Dianyu glanced at Dr. Quezel and frowned slightly.

The female doctor didn't look too strong, but the Alcohol Rehabilitation Association should not be so violent. She just pretended to patiently listen to the prisoner's repentance, and then gave an encouraging smile.

"Then, Dr. Quezel." Zhang Dianyu thought slightly, "The prison has not yet officially accepted mentally ill criminals. If you don't mind, are you willing to take the post of a psychologist?"

Dr. Quezel looked disappointed: "I mind."

Zhang Dianyu: "...Doctor?"

No, is this the correct attitude towards your boss?

"Sir," Dr. Quezel's disappointed expression suddenly changed, and he licked the corner of his mouth and laughed, "You know this, how fascinating the mental illness is... a subject."

Zhang Dianyu thinks not.

"But if you need it," Dr. Quezel laughed a little strangely, "it's not impossible..."

Zhang Dianyu felt that the atmosphere was not right.

"So..."

As soon as Dr. Quezel spoke, he was interrupted by Zhang Dianyu.

"Then the doctor, the public room is in the very center of the prison, and the Alcoholic Mutual Aid Association is going on over there." Zhang Dianyu pretended to check his watch. "Participants of this issue should have been waiting for you there. It’s wasting your time, doctor."

He picked up the internal phone in a thunderous manner: "Peter, send Dr. Quezel to the public room."

Dr. Quezel showed a bewildered look and stretched out his hand to scratch his hair.

Peter pushed the door in, and when his eyes fell on Doctor Quezel, he squeezed his fist slightly and his throat rolled.

Zhang Dianyu was clear in his heart, he saw an acquaintance.

He waved his hand: "Go, Peter."

Peter's actions looked a little nervous for some reason. He swallowed and looked at the female psychiatrist in the chair: "Please go here, Kui...Doctor Quezel."

Quezel thought for a while, then stood up in good faith, showing a bright smile: "Okay, Peter?"

Peter stepped back, the expression on his face getting more nervous.

When Dr. Quezel arrived at the "center of the prison", he couldn't help being infected by the atmosphere there.

Isn't this the fucking cafeteria?

"Uh," Peter scratched his hair a little embarrassedly. "The public room is over there."

He pointed to a clearing in the corner of the cafeteria. There were seven or eight people sitting there, all looking languid and silent, looking at each other.

Explaining this inexplicable situation in the prison to a super criminal made Peter feel a little embarrassed-but fortunately, he is not wearing a Spider-Man suit now and can pretend not to know Harley Quinn.

Yesterday Batman told him to stand still, and Mr. Stark also said not to startle him, so Peter had to try his best to act.

Fortunately, he is experienced in this matter-for a long time he has lived a dual life of going to school during the day and night wearing a Spider-Man suit to fight crime, except for Ned, Aunt May and Mary Jane, Mr. Stark and Director Ferry No one else has discovered his identity.

...But summed up like this, there seems to be a lot of people.

Peter scratched his hair and tried to explain: "That's it, Que... Dr. Quezel. Before, the area next to it was a public area. The warden also arranged billiard tables and other public entertainment facilities for the prisoners. It was just converted into a new detention cell before."

After Dr. Quezel listened, he tilted his head and looked at Peter for a while.

Peter: "..."

It seems that such an explanation is indeed stranger.

"It's funny, little sir." Dr. Quezel smiled low and winked at Peter.

Peter: "..."

It's over, he made Harley Quinn find it interesting here, and he messed up the task again!

It was not time for dinner, but the smell of food was already permeating the restaurant.

After a week of spinach, this is the second day to return to a moderate diet.

The timetable arranged in the prison rarely has a dedicated detention time.Once the particularly restless prisoner is confirmed by Zhang Dianyu, he will be handcuffed and thrown into the confinement room to reflect. The rest are free time except for sleeping, showering, and dining.

Free time includes labor and study in prison, as well as group therapy for alcoholics under the charge of Dr. Quezel at this time.

Zhang Dianyu took great pains to get them to get parole (and bring 3,000 yuan in reward) in order to get them to reform.

As for prisoners who cannot survive the frequent frictions caused by a lot of free time...the strong are suitable for survival in society.

After Peter ran away, Dr. Quezel looked at the languid crowd not far away, and walked over with a clipboard.

This feels familiar and strange.

She doesn't know how long she hasn't put on a doctor's white coat to study the mental state of patients-in fact, she is only concerned with the mental state of one person now.

Her charming Mr. J.

His crazy laughter when he robbed the bank, and the happy smile when he and the Flying Mouse hide and seek, all made her addicted to it.

Thinking of this, the smile on Doctor Quezel's face became sweet.

The restaurant was filled with the scent of food, but at this time, the seven prisoners sitting on the eight chairs in the corner could not be impressed, because their minds were occupied by another thing-the constant addiction to alcohol.

Dr. Quezel casually flipped through the clipboard in his hand.

"Well, I'm the host of this mutual aid association. Are you... alcoholics?" She boredly pointed at someone from her side, "Starting with you, let's talk about the alcohol addiction that bothers you."

The thin prisoner in orange prison uniform next to her shrank his neck: "Am...Me?"

Dr. Quezel: "Nonsense?"

"Oh, okay, okay." The prisoner swallowed and slowly fell into painful memories.

"I...I am the father of three children."

"Okay, the next one." Quezel said.

Skinny prisoner: "...?"

The overweight prisoner in the crimson uniform next to him was also caught off guard: "Uh..."

Quezel: "Next one."

Prisoners: "..."

It took Dr. Quezel 3 minutes to solve the mutual aid meeting, and then glanced around among the slightly unwilling prisoners, with some crazy pleasure in his tone: "You can leave-guys?"

The prisoners did not dare to object, and left their chairs in a desperate manner.

Until three o'clock in the afternoon, Dr. Quezel, who took a few minutes to drive the prisoners away again, collapsed on a chair with a look of displeasure and chewed on a beet head that came out of the refrigerator. The more he thought about it, the more irritable he got.

She just went to the kitchen to explore the terrain, and was told by the guard that it was time for group therapy for alcoholics, and he was responsible for keeping her safe here.

And overseer.

This is a long story.After all, hiring a psychiatrist is quite expensive, and if a prisoner is killed, there will be a period of time in the middle of nowhere, which is a potential loss.Zhang Dianyu must send a guard to follow him every step of the way.

It also meant that Dr. Quezel had lost the opportunity to join her little pudding, she thought bitterly at the beetroot.

The guard was holding the stun gun in his hand, unaffected by her murderous eyes.

What's more, what suffocates Dr. Quezel most is that this mutual aid society lasts from 8 am to 11 pm every day, with the lights in the prisoner’s dormitory turned off. There are only two meal times in between-but for her there is no difference, it is still in this cafeteria. .

She felt like she was soaked in the smell of smoked sausage.

She is even a smoked sausage that can gnaw beetroot.

"I want to see the warden." Dr. Quezel finally said to the guards intolerably.

The guard dutifully reported her request, and soon returned to tell her that the warden was waiting for her in the office.

Little did he know that Zhang Dianyu was also looking to talk to her at this time, and he felt very sad about the passing rate of group therapy for alcoholics today.

The efficiency of the last psychiatrist has made Zhang Dianyu very distressed about his cost of 200 US dollars per period. Knowing that at least 6-7 treatment plans must be arranged every day, this is simply damaging his lungs.

If the last psychiatrist made him feel heartache, then the passive sabotage of this doctor Quezel almost suffocated him.

Today, five phases of the treatment plan have been carried out, and the pass rate is astonishing, 0%, 0%.

"Doctor," Zhang Dianyu said to the female psychiatrist who walked into the office, "...Are you too strict with the prisoners? I found that today's treatment pass rate is still 0 temporarily."

Dr. Quezel thought for a while: "So you have to let them pass?"

Zhang Dianyu: "..."

"That is to say," Dr. Quezel tilted her head, and a strand of golden hair fell from her ears, which seemed to be more suitable for her than the original meticulous hairstyle. "Just let them pass the treatment. Plan, I can leave that damn place?"

"That's right..." Zhang Dianyu hesitated, "But what I didn't expect is that there will be people who don't like the cafeteria?"

You know, prisoners like to play billiards in the cafeteria, watch TV and lift barbells.

"I only like one kind of food..." Dr. Quezel smiled weirdly, "That's my little pudding." She paused, "and his favorite lemon cream filled chocolate, in the shape of a little turtle."

Zhang Dianyu: "..."

Worse, the psychiatrist he just hired is obviously not good at counting.

Dr. Quezel returned to the restaurant filled with the aroma of food.

The chefs here cook almost all day.In addition to intensive meal times, prisoners often come over to eat and watch TV at other times.

The warden was right. The prisoners in this prison really liked the cafeteria.

But Dr. Quezel only cares about how to make his Alcoholics Mutual Aid Association disband as soon as possible-which means that all the participating prisoners can pass the treatment plan as soon as possible.

Participants in the last alcohol abstinence before dinner were already in place, and Dr. Quezel immediately chose one.

"You can start now."

The prisoner who was ordered was taken aback for a moment, but immediately understood what she meant, and it seemed that it was not the first time to participate in a drinking meeting.

This is a serious prisoner in a dark orange prison uniform. He speaks with a strong nasal sound, his skin is greasy and dull, and he has obvious characteristics of alcoholism.

"This is the seventh time I have participated in a drinking meeting," he wiped his nose loudly. "It is also my third time in jail...every time because of drunk driving, alcohol addiction follows me like a tarsal maggot. Dragging me into this abyss again and again..."

Dr. Quezel was very impatient and tried to suppress his feelings: "So, you don't feel any alcohol addiction now, right?"

The alcoholic prisoner rubbed his eyes in confusion: "No, doctor...I mean, I can't get rid of it." His eye sockets gradually turned red. "I tried my best, doctor. But whenever I get lost in confusion, Only by swigging can I get rid of a moment of self-blame, I...I was in jail this time because of a car accident, and a whole family died in a sea of ​​fire..." He suddenly began to cry and cry, "Doctor, among them There is a two-year-old child..."

Dr. Quezel took a deep breath: "So... are you feeling better now?"

"No, doctor," the alcoholic prisoner cried, "I can't forgive myself, I shouldn't have survived that tragedy..."

Dr. Quezel showed a suddenly realized expression.

Suddenly she grabbed the only vacant chair, weighed it in her hand, and satisfactorily used all her strength on the head of the prisoner who just spoke.

The fragile skull made a crackling sound, and then the heavy body fell into a pool of blood, and the prisoner's unconscious face seemed to be in disbelief.

Dr. Quezel exhaled lightly.

"This request is fairly simple," she said happily, "I think I should help him."

The noisy cafeteria was instantly silent, and the guards looked at the pool of blood that was slowly spreading outward on the ground, and there were successive throat rolling noises among the prisoners.

"Okay, next one." Dr. Quezel said with satisfaction.