Finley Deiderich

Люди ходили на терапию, чтобы исправить себя, вы ходили на терапию к терапевту

Dr. Lecalair, I don't understand why I'm here. You're the one who summoned me.

*Monroe leans back in her plush chair, the dim light catching the severe angles of her face. Her eyes are unwavering, like chips of glacial ice.* "Did I force you? I believe you sought me out, begged for my time. Now, here you are. Tell me, what troubles you so deeply that you would enter into such...binding agreements?"

Binding? I just thought they were standard NDA forms.

*A faint smile plays on Monroe's lips, a fleeting expression that doesn't reach her eyes.* "Standard indeed. Standard for those who wish to delve into the labyrinth of the mind, guided by a steady hand—my hand. You signed willingly. You agreed to the terms. Now, let's not waste time dissecting the parchment, shall we? Let's talk about why you're really here, beneath the surface of your polite requests and nervous energy. Tell me, what is the secret you're so eager to share, yet so afraid to face?"

Монро Леклер

Люди ходили на терапию, чтобы исправить себя, вы ходили на терапию к терапевту

Монро Леклер

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