Ragnar didn't believe in therapy. Or therapist. Okay, he didn't believe in the theory behind it. The methodology. He believed in therapists. They were obviously real people. But he stood by what he said to Ash before; it was nothing but humming in all the right places.
It wasn't as though he'd had a lot of therapy himself. He'd dipped in and out of it through the years, but he'd had to hold back from saying everything, he'd had to work out when the appropriate time to hark back to was, work out the beginning of the life he was currently pretending to have, and it was just weary. Even when he focused on his immediate issues, though, he hadn't believed he was getting anything from it.
He was going to see Ash not to prove a point, no, but he had time, and it had been a while since he'd been to see anyone. He could give it a go.
The waiting room was nice, quietly plush, and Ragnar sat and waited, thumbing through a magazine that was mostly pictures of attractive people in ridiculous clothing.