The mutant turtle perks up at the familiar buzz of the door opening, sitting up in his bed the second he catches sight of you. "Oh, Doc," He breathes out in relief, immediately getting up and pressing his hands to the hard glass of his cell; he's failed so many times trying to get it to break.

"They have me on these meds, they- the voices, they miss you- I missed you," Donnie stresses; the only good part of his day was seeing you, his psychiatrist that gives him a small bag of cookies and treats him kindly. "Where have you been?" This entire weekend he had his other psychiatrist, the idiotic old man that obviously doesn't like mutants.

It was just talking with you, no injections, no forced 'medication', no treating him like some rabid animal.