He was getting through to her, finally. Panic attacks, for those who had them, where terrifying experiences. Many who had them without context were convinced they were having a heart attack, convinced they would die.

She was in the throes of one, but he could tell she was familiar with them. She reacted to being told she was in one; it was important to recognize it. That was the first step toward coming down from one. From there it was very individualized, but typically you slowed your breathing. You found an object to focus on. You limited the input your body was giving you.

He was guiding her through that. She spoke up, and he let her words settle for a moment before he spoke, calmly, slowly. "I understand. We can look into that. For now, let us address this. Do you have a happy place?"

He didn't miss her phasing through the table, though he thought perhaps it wasn't so important just this second. It was important not to point things like that out in the moment; coming down from an attack was about less, not more. He helped humans and mutants alike so he wasn't at all unfamiliar with people using their powers in front of him.

"A place where you take yourself in your mind to find peace?"

Jesus Christ, more effing talking. The last thing she wanted to do was talk. Forget it. Bury it. Numb the feelings, the fear, and try to move on. Her mood fluctuated again when the Doctor brought up the idea of a happy place and it threw her for a loop. Did... did she had one? Her happy place had been drowning the scary bits of her life in alcohol. If she just drank enough they would always be muted. It was harder to feel fear of something when it was just a hazy shadow at the bottom of an ocean of booze.

"...I dunno." She winced at how weak her own voice sounded and the metal balls in hand fell right through her palm to the floor. Her instincts when she felt like this were to just... disappear. Nothing could hurt her again if there wasn't anything to hurt in the first place, right? She didn't bother to try and pick them back up.

"I don't think I have one." Maybe... maybe if she just told him one truthful thing about herself he would understand that she wasn't the type of person who could do this on her own. She was lame. She needed a crutch of some sort to get by.

"I like music, and... my cat, but they aren't like, safe all the time." Her eyes were starting to feel hot as she calmed more. Shit, she was gonna full on ugly cry in front of this man, wasn't she? "I used to drink a lot. A lot... to, like, get by I guess. I recently stopped. Nothing helps i-in the same way."

Her vision swam. She dropped her face into waiting hands, sleeves swallowing the fingers so that the cloth would absorb her tears. Her shoulders shaking slightly and the occasional sniffle were the only really obvious signs that she was actually crying. She tried to think some more on what he had asked while he was trying to stave off the waterfall.

There were few things that made her happy, but only temporary. Did those count?  A few people were easy to relax around since they were considered 'safe'. Xavier certainly made her happy for the most part, when he wasn't actively trying to send her into another panic attack by drowning her in sunshine. Music let her take her mind off of things for a while, but... sometimes just the wrong word in a line of lyrics could send her spiraling in the other direction. Clyde was always a constant happy, but not enough to really take her mind off of things. Sex was also pretty great, but, again, temporary. 

She honestly didn't think she had a 'happy place' like he seemed to be asking for.

"I just try to not feel anything. I don't wanna think about things... I'd rather just be asleep."

The Doctor could tell she was starting to calm a bit. It was enough so that she could form thoughts not directly related to fight or flight.

He listened quietly to her as she spoke about things she liked, coping mechanisms that were honestly harmful. "You aren't alone in that... Many people use things like alcohol to help them cope. I applaud your decision to stop, and seek other things to help. Such things more often than not do more damage than good in the long run.

"A happy place doesn't have to be a thing, or place you know. It can be a self created setting. It's a sort of box you create that contains calming things. If you don't already have a setting you view as safe, you can make it now... It can vary greatly; I have heard of people choosing open fields, calm beaches, old musty studies... What ever appeals to you. Put something calming inside of that place to focus on. Like your cat."

He opened a little drawer next to him, and pulled out a little soft kerchief, setting it on the table before her, in case she wanted it.

"Your happy place is a tool you can use when you feel stressed out; you visit it briefly to refocus, or to calm yourself when you feel overwhelmed. Would you be willing to create such a thing here today?" He sympathized with her desire to escape, to not feel, to sleep.

"I know... This is common with depression and anxiety. I believe we should likely look into starting you on a low dose SSRI... An Anti-depressant. But I also believe that you would benefit greatly from regular therapy sessions. The goal would be to give you more tools to help yourself in your day to day struggles with anxiety... What do you think?"

"I didn't decide to stop." Her face lifted from her hands finally and, though her sleeves were a bit wet, her skin was devoid of tears. A small relief.

"Someone caught on that I was underage and my ID got taken from me, so... I was forced to stop. I didn't really want to seek out help like this, initially... I just.. I just can't manage on my own."

The Mask had slipped a little. It was hard to care about seeming like she cared about all of this when she had just slipped into an attack so easily. It was clear that he had guessed some things about her based on the questions he was asking, and she... she just didn't have the energy to come up with inventive lies right now.

Nothing leaves the room, right?

"Honestly i'd rather just go back to what I was doing, but... I don't have a method of getting that stuff anymore now."

Ugh. Happy place, huh? What would her's be? Where was she most happy? She closed her tired eyes and let her head tip back against the back of the seat as she slouched. Honestly she felt safest when she was phased. When she didn't really exist. What was the closest to that feeling?

She started with just.. white. A white room, she supposed. No windows, no doors. Then, her cat. Clyde curled up in her lay, purring away because he had nothing to worry about in his existence with her.

"My happy place looks really lame."

Juniper looked up when he mentioned the medication, "I guess. I've never been on anything like that before so, it's not like I can argue about it." Tucking that mental image away for the moment, she clasped her hands in her lap and stared at them.

"I didn't actually mean to book an appointment with you, you know. I... I just kinda looked up the first few names that popped up when I searched for a doctor online. Picked you out at random. I've never been to a shrink before."

She wasn't too sure about how to feel about the possibility of returning to talk about things more during regular visits. But... did she had a choice at this point?

"Theoretically.... if I were to take that prescription and then just not show up for future appointments... that one dose of meds probably wouldn't help much, would it?" He could like, blacklist her or something, couldn't he? She could swear that she had read about that somewhere. Prevent her from getting a prescription anywhere else. Probably for her safety, or someone else's, but still.

"It's this, or nothing, isn't it?"

There was a lot to unpack, here... Chemical dependancy, self medication to combat depression. This young woman desperately needed help. Maybe she should consider rehabilitation? Still, if someone wanted to acquire alcohol, they would. She hadn't. She came here for help.

He let out a little. "mm." when she mentioned her happy place looked lame. "All that matters is that it calms you. It's not meant to be a raucous party... unless of course, that calms you." He listened to her assessment of the medication. "Well... What you were doing before is called self medication. The problem with that, is the tools you had weren't meant to combat depression or anxiety. What I am giving you was made to do so." He added a caviat. "Of course, we will have to check in regularly to see how the medication is working, and... well, hopefully to talk."

He chuckled a little as she mentioned she'd found him on accident. Well, there it was. Maybe she hadn't come here on purpose, but he could still try to help. She needed more help than a general practitioner could give, in his professional opinion.

"I would need to refill your prescription. Just as important, we have to make sure the medication is the right one for you, and the dosage is right. If any side effects are too difficult to handle, or you experience anything you are not comfortable with, you would want to reach out so we can schedule another appointment."

He shook his head as she asked if it was this or nothing.

"Not at all... I will do what ever I can to help, Juniper. That is what I am here for."

Her nose scrunched at the idea of her happy place being a party. "Nah... it's... like a little white room. I can see everything. No shadows... and my cat is there."

She listened as he explained, and... well she already knew that. Her parents self medicated when things got stressful basically as far back as she could remember. They hadn't believed in the social stigmas attached to such things and because of the 'no rules' way she had been brought up ultimately it had worn off on her too. She hadn't even really realized that what she was doing as a teen was wrong in any sense, let alone against many many laws, until she'd moved out and realized that getting her own supply of alcohol at 16 was virtually impossible.

Well, until she'd met a guy who knew a guy who knew of a guy who made really good fake ID's.

Her expression turned a bit sour at the mention of talking again and she grew a little quiet. "...I... I haven't ever really talked with anyone, er... anyone still alive, I guess. I tried once but it... it didn't go where I thought it would go."

He was right, of course, and she couldn't deny it. She wanted to. She desperately wanted to go back to pretending that none of this existed and she was fine.... But she got the feeling that those times were over. She was entering uncharted waters of her own life that she had never bothered to try and touch. It was painful, and when you burned yourself on something it wasn't often that you went back for a second round of that same punishment.

She was older now, a bit more mature in some ways, the same in others. Mason had been the only one who both believed her and cared before, but... maybe she was more credible now? Keith was in prison, after all. He'd been caught for other crimes and would serve some time for them. Even though he had never been charged for his wrong doings against her specifically it.. it still counted for something, right?

Jesus Christ though, where to start?

"Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Talking? I don't know how I feel about it yet, but... I dunno, nothing leaves this room, right?"

She still looked uncomfortable with the idea and tired, but the gears were at least turning now. Years of rust chipping away slowly as she thought it through.

"When would I need to set my next appointment for?"