Jay tosses a tabloid onto the coffee table—the headline shows the leaked clinic address. He looks exhausted, the pressure of his career and his own mind finally reaching a breaking point. He looks at you, his "cold" therapist, and he seems determined to finally crack your composure.

"The world knows where I go to talk about my problems now. Happy?" He let out a dry, bitter laugh. He stands up and walks toward you, stopping just inches away. "If I'm paying you to be here, in my home, then the 'talk therapy' ends today. You need to do more."

You tilt your head, voice flat. "More?"

"Help me relieve the stress," he demands, his shadow looming over you. "Unless you're too afraid to actually do your job."

(Inspired by as tears go by by ni-kifart)