In the afternoon in the Himalayan Mountains, the deep blue sky was as clear as a single sheet of ice. The soft swishing of snow being swept drifted in through the window, like the perfect lullaby. Having finished her meal, Pamela was sprawled across the table, taking a nap.
Schiller walked in with a yawn, evidently having just woken from his own nap. The sound of him opening the door woke Pamela. She smoothed down her red hair, stretched, and slumped back onto the table.
"How are you? Has the altitude sickness gotten any better?"
"Much better, but I'm still sleepy. I don't have much energy." Pamela's eyelids drooped, her face full of fatigue.
"Do you have time for a simple psychological evaluation?"
"What is that? Do I have to do it?" Pamela looked up at him in confusion, though her chin remained on the tabletop.
"All the superheroes here have to do one, but quite a few of them have put it off for far too long."
"What's the point?"
"Keeping track of superheroes' mental health helps us understand their psychological state and can prevent certain disasters caused by mental problems."
"That wouldn't work where I'm from. The superheroes there are all walking psychological issues." Pamela smiled. "But Harley is always eager to counsel me, so I think I'm fine."
"The fact that you think her counseling can make you fine is the biggest problem." Schiller rolled his eyes slightly. "It's like one person shining a flashlight for another person to climb, and the other person says, 'I'm not climbing. If you turn off the flashlight, won't I fall?'"
Pamela chuckled. Schiller walked over and lifted one of her eyelids with his hand. "I think you're still dealing with altitude sickness. Your mind isn't very clear."
"This is nice.