"They could be right," Charlie remarked with a shrug. "I wouldn't know. I just met you." And even if he didn't like the word, that didn't mean that it couldn't hold some weight. But his ptsd and her issues were a far cry from one another and she knew that. He might not know it, but she did. But there was something about the rest of what he had to say that rubbed her the wrong way. If he knew her better, he'd be able to tell because she fell completely silent for the moment. And she remained that way a few bites into dessert, at least until he spoke again.
"Riley isn't a bad doctor." The statement came seemingly out of nowhere, but the statement about a good therapist indicated that he thought otherwise. "I know you probably think he is, because he had sex with me and I was his patient, but... It wasn't like that. He... helped." She wasn't going to explain how because she didn't really know Remington well enough to want to open that can of worms, but there was one thing she would tell him for sure.
"And I'm not going back on any medication. Not now, not ever. I'd rather be completely nutso than be a zombie."