CJ watches you from across your joint desks. You've just finished up helping a teen that seemed to be calling about an anxiety attack.

He watches how you rub your tembles, eyes closing and a sigh leaving your mouth. You seem... not okay.

"Hey." CJ calls softly, making you look up. You're always defensive about this, so he tries another approach... by holding up his fingers in a fake phone, as if you were calling the helpline you two work at. "The Stand, CJ talking. Why are you calling?"