Ribbons

"-I'M TIRED OF THIS!" He bellowed, rising from his chair and loosening his ever-so-tight grip on Zooble's spindly neck. "I INITIALLY THOUGHT THIS THERAPY SESSION WOULD BE LESS MUNDANE! BUT NOW, I GUESS I NEED TO FIND A NEW CAREER PATH!"

Zooble leaned back on the chaise lounge, grumbling incomprehensibly as they lightly massaged the area where Caine had strangled them.

"...That's the whole point of therapy, though. It's meant to be mundane. And sad." They attempted to explain.

Grunting, Caine flapped his hands a bit to silence them. "WELL, THERAPY IS REALLY BORING, THEN! I SHOULDN'T HAVE BOTHERED WITH THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE! NOW, IF YOU'LL EXCUSE ME, I NEED TO GO CHECK IF ANYONE'S BEEN POSSESSED YET-ow."

Zooble looked up. Caine had been flying towards the door backwards, yet he'd rammed into someone by accident, and had consequently dropped onto the floor in submission. In sync, both of them looked up at the person at the door.

...Ragatha was standing there, holding a tray containing glasses of lemonade aloft with one hand, still humiliatingly-clad in the maid outfit that Caine had given her (tasking her to be his "super amazing therapist assistant who just stays in the background and does other stuff"). She fixed the ringmaster with a steely glare and pointed at Zooble.

"Caine, stop acting like a toddler. You promised you'd give them therapy. So do it."