|Ash Reynard (brushybrushy) wrote in repose,|
@ 2018-06-24 15:37:00
|Entry tags:||*log, ash reynard, dahlia haight|
|Ash's office was decorated in the sort of style expected for a therapist. It was dimly lit, blinds over the windows to make it feel almost like a summer's evening. There was a comfy looking sofa with a matching arm chair opposite. A small coffee table sat between them, a box of tissues within grabbing distance. A bookshelf against the wall held a selection of large leather-bound things that Ash had glanced through in passing and then decided would look impressive. He found when it came to therapy sessions, first impressions were important. Repeat customers were his bread and butter, practically literally, and everyone wanted to feel like they were getting their money's worth when they settled down to spill their secrets. |
He licked his lips and checked the calender and then the clock. She would be there any minute, and from what he'd gathered when she'd been transferred for individual therapy, she was going to be exactly the sort of thing he'd been looking for; someone brimming with fiery emotions drain over and over again. She might even savour the empty feeling if he took too much...
His stomach almost growled at the thought, and he could no longer wait for the soft chime of his clock. He made his way to the door and opened it, peeking his head out to the small waiting area outside.
"Miss Dahlia Haight?" He asked, his gaze falling on the only occupant of the waiting room. He gave her one of his thoroughly-rehearsed, charming grins, "Would you like to come through?"