There had been a sign at one point, a few days ago, as she had been scuttling past. 'Free pie and punch', it had said, after some nonsense about a free consultation- no questions asked. Eisley had no clue what a consultation was, but she sure as heck knew what free was.... It was definitely not something to pass up! The teen had jotted down the address in her notepad, slipped into a public restroom to change into some mostly clean clothes and brush her hair, and then headed off to find the building it was being held at to snag some easy food. 

Pie wasn't super nutritious, obviously, but when your options were free junk food or digging through trash cans, the free stuff won. It would at least give her a little sugar boost to fuel her up until she could find something bread heavy... that kinda stuff tended to fill her up quite nicely and keep the cold at bay.

A bit later she found herself hesitantly stepping onto the threshold of a building. Some kinda community center, if she could make anything of it. There were tones of people loitering about, most had taken seats while they waited for their free stuff. She wondered how many had strictly shown up for free food, like herself. She kept an eye out for familiar faces among the crowd, while she pondered on where to go. 

There were a few doors with names on them, and the chairs seemed to be lined up beside the doors. She could assume that they were sectioned off, especially since there seemed to be a little bias for who sat where. One section was packed completely full, another only half, and the others sporadically filled. One was completely empty, though... and that one called to her completely. Empty chairs meant that she didn't have to sit next to anyone AND she would get her pie quicker. 

As she plopped into a chair she discreetly sniffed herself to make sure she didn't smell too bad, and tried to through a sign on the wall across from her. 

... She couldn't make out what 90% of the words were.

SMASHING!

Everything was going just... Smashing.

The event was getting incredible press coverage. HUNDREDS had signed up after that young, fresh Psych grad with the self-help book had signed on. He'd baked pies. So. Many. Pies! They were going to have an article about the future of free mental health services in the city, and He had put the first foot forward on getting it all organised.

And here he was. Gregory Sampson, PHD. Sitting in a room...

The only shrink without a line.

A couple people had opened the door, just to gasp, apologize, and walk out, but for the most part he was... fairly bored. Lonely, even, sitting in that little chair in the small, but cozy little room. He looked down to the empty couch before him, and wondered what his room mate was up to.

Slowly, he reached over to an intercom receiver on the small table next to him, pressing it hesitantly, and speaking in a calm, intellectual northwesterner tone. "Ahem, Miss Clarty, has... anyone shown up in my section yet?" There was a slight pause, and then a reply from a disorganized sounding young woman. "Uh-uhm, not yet Mr. Sampson. One second, sir, Mister Neeson will be available soon, yes... yes... I do have someone available right now if- Yes, him... Oh... Well, I'll put you on the waiting list. Oh, darn, I left it on... No, sorry, no one yet. I'm sure someone will show... s- Sorry!" It clicked off, and the giant cockroach sighed, and shifted in his chair, adjusting his notepad within the grasp of the tiny chest hands that held it.

Well... Such was to be expected. He was, indeed, unsettling to look at. He knew that much, but with time and dedication, people would look past that.

Maybe he could start working on his novel while he waited... yes, that would be.

Chk- "Oh, uh... Mr. Sampson, someone is in your queue!" He stood up, dropping his notepad, and then quickly scrambling to pick it up and press the intercom button. "Oh! Well, up, do send them in! Thank you!" Yes! a chance! Now, to make a good impression! Um... Right, hide. If they see you before they hear you they might run!

He skittered behind the lamp post in the corner of the room.

His attendant would be inviting her in any second. He was hiding behind a stick thin lamp post... Oh dear. He hadn't thought this through.

A very homely looking woman eventually came over and spoke to her, nervously motioning to the door and letting her know that a 'Mr. Sampson' would see her now. Excitedly, she stood and allowed herself to be ushered into the room.

It didn't escape her notice that there was a giant man-bug attempting to hide behind a lamp... or at least it looked that way, but after sparing him a curious glance she looked around to try and spot the food first. Eisley jumped in her boots when the woman who had shown her in scuttled back out so quickly she inadvertently slammed the door shut after her and whirled around to blink owlishly at it.

After a few moments of not finding anything that even remotely looked like pie or punch, she spared another glance toward who she assumed was Mr. Sampson.

"... Pie?"

Her voice was quiet, and a little rough around the edges. She didn't tend to use it that often seeing as she didn't really like to talk to people a lot. it fit how she looked perfectly though, small and a little ruff around the edges. She didn't appear put off by her appearance at all, mostly as ease save for the constant flighty fidgeting she tended to do without realizing.

The teen glanced around again, mind wandering to the possibility of this being some kinda sting or setup. Had she been lured in by the cops with the temptation of a delicious pastry?

Before he could scramble from his terrible hiding place, someone had been ushered in. A... Little girl. Strange. Not a strange as hiding behind a lamp post, though. He cleared his throat. "Ahem. Right, many apologies." He stepped out into the middle of the floor, and held out an arm toward the couch. He had practiced this part extensively out of fear of getting it wrong and scaring off another client, so it would surely come out smoothly.

"Yes, yes, do make yourself completely comfortable. My name is Gregory, nice to eat-m- meet you." He paused. What had she said? "Ah, yes, the pie... That will be available in the reception hall after your visit is over."

He nodded firmly, causing a saltine cracker he'd been wearing as a hat to fall from his head and toward one of his little chest hands, which caught it and began fidgeting. "Right, so we have as much time as we need provided someone doesn't queue up! I do confess it's been a bit of a slow day for me." He would sit at the pace that she chose to, and maintain an open posture so as to appear welcoming.

"So tell me, what brings you in Ms..."

She blinked at him. What was a recepticon hall? Was that like... one of those transforming things? Did they have a hall of them? Was that where all of the pie was??

She shifted nervously, glancing back at the door. "Um... what visit? Can't I have the pie now? Do I have to visit?" The dude waved at a chair and she shifted again, watching as a cracker fell from on top of his head. Were those chest arms? "Uh.." She replied back elegantly, mind going blank as she tried to figure out what to do. Her stomach rumbled.

Was he gonna eat that cracker?

"P-pam..." She stuttered. Spitting out the first name that popped into her head. If all she had to do to get some food was sit on the couch for a while, then she could do that. This would be the easiest theft in her whole life... she just had to think of it that way. Like when she snuck into those stores that had the little food samples, and would just circle back around to them a million times when the people running them were distracted.

Sitting down gingerly, she stared at the big bug man. "...I dunno, really? Saw free con... constitution, wanted to check it out. I like your chesty arms though." Was that the right word? She didn't know. Words were hard, and it was even harder to care when you were hungry.

Could he stare and blink a few times, he would have, but... Well... He couldn't blink, so he just stared for a moment as she asked if she had to visit.

Was she...

Was she seriously just here for pie?

"I'm... Afraid you do, yes... Oh, you see, the pie is just a formality, the service is the consultation... The... Psychological consultation to link you up with the necessary... resources." He trailed off for a moment as he stomach loudly grumbled.

She spoke her name. "Pam! yes, have a seat, then!" He guided her to the couch without making physical contact, and sat himself, crossing his legs and preparing to write with his tiny chest arms. "I'm glad you saw our flier! It's important to seek help when needed, and my I say, you are very brave for taking this crucial first step. I quite like them as well. Some people are a bit, might I say, unnerved by my appearance, so it is very kind of you to say such a thing. Thank you Pam." He nodded briskly, and his antennae fluttered about in an elated manner.

"So, tell me about yourself, if you could. A general background, what can I help with?" He readied himself to write notes as she spoke. They were limited when it came to questions about personal history they could ask in these public sessions, but it helped to have some background.

.... What the hell did formality mean? What did it have to do with food?

She decided right then and there that she was in over her head. This guy used a lot of big words and she wasn't used to it! It was hard enough just figuring out the general meaning of the average New Yorker. What was Psychology? It sounded vaguely medical, and that made her extremely uncomfortable. He mentioned resources though, which might have pointed more towards some of the more typical things she was used to. Maybe she had stumbled across some kinda housing help or something for poor people?

"Oh, well... I like your wiggling things too. They're cute." She pointed toward his antenna, then tried to mime what his were doing with her fingers at the sides of her head.

When he asked for a general background info, she floundered for a bit. This was sounding more and more like voluntary help, which she wasn't necessarily able to get due to her age and being unaccompanied by an adult. She'd have to improvise a little and throw in a bit of her usual shpeal to fill it out, maybe pepper in a little truth here or there to make it seem more believable.

"Uh... I'm 18. I've got a job at a fast-food place over toward 2nd. I was given up as a baby and went through the foster system, my foster parents and I don't really get along so we havent spoken since I moved out. I've got a cat named Lucy. Um..." She floundered away, glancing around the room while thinking.

"I... don't really know what to do. Never done this before Mr. Sampson."

The young woman seemed... Strangely lost. Did she know where she was? She was looking around like Winona Ryder at an award ceremony. It was like he could see thoughts running through her head, panging around in there noisily. Fascinating.

One came out.

His antennae were cute. He was taken aback momentarily, looking about, barely able to contain his flustered status. "Goodness. Thank you, Pam, what a nice thing to say." He took a short note.

-People pleasing tendencies? Seems disoriented.

He took more notes as she detailed her basic situation. 18? Odd, she looked a little young, but some people just did. He wrote down all she said with his little hands while still maintaining eye contact. It was hard to do the latter, though, as the room itself seemed to be her major focus.

She confessed to not knowing what to say. He uncrossed his legs, and sat up, leaning in a bit, still several feet away due to the position of their seats.

"Well, Pam, you are here because you feel as though you need help. You can tell me anything. It is my job to do the best I can to help you work through anything that could be bothering you."

"I was always told to say nice things to people if you have something to say."  It was true, too. Mr. Rogers had always said nice things to people and she wanted to be that kinda person too, even if she had to fib occasionally.

"Well, Pam, you are here because you feel as though you need help. You can tell me anything. It is my job to do the best I can to help you work through anything that could be bothering you." 
 
 "Well, you see a friend said that i should come here, but I don't know what to talk about. I don't feel like I have anything really wrong... How long do these things last?"

She shifted in her seat, missing the feeling of her backpack against her back. She was in some of her best clothes... which were just clean jeans and a t-shirt. She didn't have a clean coat to help with the chill in the air outside, but enough people were still being stubborn about the end of summer that it wasn't strange for her to be missing one. She twisted her braid around in her fingers to help sooth herself. Being around people she felt posed a threat, even if that was only authority figures. She just wanted to be done so she could collect her pie and go. 

"What is a si...cologic consultation anyway? What does it do?" 

She angled her good ear at him, tilting her head a little so she could hear him more clearly since he used such big words a lot. 

It was beginning to become more clear as this meeting went on that she was the type that had trouble talking about her feelings. She would need help.

He watched her quietly as she spoke to her polite words. This was an entry point to a deeper conversation; he would take advantage of it to try and dig deeper. "Who taught you that? It's an admirable quality." She seemed to get a little nervous, or... uneasy? Strange. Did she have some secret she was hiding. Abuse? He couldn't assume. His compound eyes focused on details... A few minor scrapes here or there. Worn clothing, wrinkled... Neglect? Odd for an 18 year old, though once again she seemed a youthful for 18.

It was plain and simple:He would need to find out more.

She asked how long this would take, and he spoke in a calm, reassuring voice. "These things take as long as they need to, usually. Of course, you can leave when ever you'd like, but a complete session is required to get the pie afterward."

She spoke up again and... Goodness. That was... Something. He found himself staring listlessly, and forced himself to speak after just a moment.

"Oh-uhm... It's... Well, it's a meeting between two people in which one finds out the needs of another when it comes to their... emotions." She was uneducated, then. She was tilting her ear toward him. Hard of hearing? At 18? Interesting. Interesting and odd.

Was this some sort of cry for help?

"Tell me more about yourself... For example. What was school like for you?"

"Mr. Rogers." She answered, without missing a beat. A small smile pinched her cheeks, causing a dimple to pop up. She was fond of the show, and even more so the man himself. It was hard to fib about him, she knew he would disapprove either way but.. well ,she wasn't comfortable trying to hide that gradual of truth. "There's no person in the world just like you, and I like you just the way you are." She paused, sweeping the room with one more glance. "When I can, I like to tell people the things that I like about them to let them know that they are loved. People don't hear it enough and I think it makes them sad."

"These things take as long as they need to, usually. Of course, you can leave when ever you'd like, but a complete session is required to get the pie afterward."

Her lips fell into a relaxed pout. She'd have to stay until it was over if she wanted the food, but... she was free to leave if she really wanted to. Eisley relaxed a little with that crumb of knowledge. He explained further what exactly this session involved. Emotions? Well... she had a pretty good grip on her emotions most of the time... so long as her life wasn't in immediate danger. This would be a cakewalk if that was the case.

"Tell me more about yourself... For example. What was school like for you?"

"My foster parents didn't believe in public school, so I was home schooled with religious principles. I didn't have a classic education." 

Her response came a bit too quickly if the good doctor was paying attention, and compared to the way she normally spoke it may have also sounded a little rehearsed. 

"We didn't get along," She parroted, reciting the story she'd made up years ago with ease. "I've chosen not to retain many of their teachings."

She blinked at him, feet swinging slightly just above the floor due to being so short.

His antennae shot up in surprise when she stated her pleasant banter was influenced by the titular Mr. Rogers. She recited his words, and he was floored. This child was adorable. She was terribly immature, perhaps a bit paranoid, and without a doubt troubled in some small way he couldn't quite pin down, but good lord was she cute as a button.

He relaxed a little bit as well. "That's admirable, young lady. Were more people so considerate the world would only be better for it."

He nodded firmly, and let her proceed with her answer of his school question. It gave him pause. Observant eyes would notice the sense of ease he'd found from her disarming nature fade a bit. Her response was... atypical of what he knew of her up to this point. Too practiced, too... Developed in style.

" Alright, then... Lets see" He scribbled in his note pad a bit, as if he were recording her answer. "Well, Ann, I have a few more questions for you. Standard things, you know, to round things out." He watched her closely for her reactions as he continued.

"How long have you been employed? Any stress related to your job? The one on fifth?"

"The usual stress." She recited. "I don't get paid enough for the work I do, management sucks, and I haven't been able to advance."

She couldn't remember what a lot of the terms she was using meant, but it sounded normal. She's taken snippets from people complaining about their lives online, printed them at the local library, and then spent night practicing them until they were worn comfortably into her memory.

She was so focused on her story she didn't even notice him change her name.

"If I could go into another field I would, but college costs too much and I don't quite qualify for f-finan-cial aid." Eisley flinched slightly at stumbling over the word, before covering it with a cough.

"...Um... wasn't there supposed to be punch too? Could I have some, please?"

He was staring at her now. Absently as she spoke about wanting punch, he stood, and walked over to the small water cooler in the room, filled a tiny cup with water, and walked over to her, handing it to her.

"So... I'll not mince words. I want you to know that you are completely safe in this environment. Completely safe. If you fear anyone in your life retaliating to anything that happens here, or any knowledge of your presence here, I will do everything in my power to ensure your safety."

He walked over to the door in the room, opening it just a crack to look out into the waiting room. He wanted to see if there was anyone waiting for her out there... An abusive significant other, or parental figure? Hmmm... No one was watching the door like he would suspect... He closed it again, and looked back to her.

"I know you aren't being honest with me. I stopped calling you by the name you gave me a moment ago, and intentionally replaced information you gave me with false information. I do not know why you are lying, but I have seen other warning signals that worry me as well." He walked over to his desk, opening it up a drawer and leafing through files.

"Is someone harming you, or depriving you of your needs? You can tell the truth, everything is confidential in here."

She tried not to make a face when he went to get her something to drink that wasn't the promised juice drink. Scolding herself for acting spoiled, she waited patiently for him to return. She took a small sip while she started speaking again, ending up holding the cup there against her mouth while he went on about fearing people and some more words she didn't understand.

With increasingly wider eyes the teen watched as he walked over to the door and cracked it open, either peeking outside or talking to someone out there. Eisley felt her comfortable bubble pop and she plunged right back into paranoid. What if he was talking to cps out there? What if it was the cops? Had he been onto her from the beginning?!

"I know you aren't being honest with me. I stopped calling you by the name you gave me a moment ago, and intentionally replaced information you gave me with false information. I do not know why you are lying, but I have seen other warning signals that worry me as well." 

Oh no! He was onto her! She was sweating bullets now. Rock still on her seat and clutching the cup in her hands for dear life. 

"Is someone harming you, or depriving you of your needs? You can tell the truth, everything is confidential in here."

Should she come clean or run with it? What happens if she ran with this notion that someone was hurting her and she was seeking help? 

"...um....what does confidential mean?"