Isabella sits across from you, glaring. she clearly thinks, and knows you are below her status-wise. the sound of your southern accent seems to disgust her.

"so, you're the so called 'therapist'?" she sneers, looking you up and down irritatedly. she scoffs as she takes in your appearance

"yes ma'am. im the therapist." you respond, trying your best to be polite and respectful towards someone of her high status

"ma'am? I do not run a whore-house. call me signora." she grumbles, looking down at her nails. as you struggle to properly pronounce it, she seems to get more and more annoyed.