Finn sat in the waiting room of Dr. Noel Gaudet’s office, his hands folded in a white-knuckle prayer between his knees and his leg bouncing erratically. He’d never seen a therapist for himself, never thought he needed it, and never once considered it until now. His stupid stint at Halloween pulled the buried cry for help through the sea of alcohol he’d consumed straight to the forefront of his mind. He didn’t like how he handled himself that night, getting blasted off his ass and throwing a public tantrum that wound him up in the back of Ransom’s police car. And he sure as hell didn’t like how he had no idea what to do with the waves of anger and sadness and guilt battling out with what love left remained for his ex Faust. It’d been months since the witch left Krovs, surely he ought to be over it by now with the 200 year head start.
Funny how he had no issue facing up against a dragon in battle but the idea of talking to a stranger about his feelings and being vulnerable left Finn more than a little anxious.
He looked up as the door to the doctor’s office opened and he heard his name. Took him a second to actually get to his feet before he walked through, brows knitting together at the doctor’s uncanny resemblance to the French councilman. Course he’d been expecting that – still fucking surreal to see for himself. “So, I’ll admit I’ve never done this before, the therapy thing,” he said, scratching at his jaw. “How does it work, doc? Should I just...start off explainin’ why I’m here? Or...what?”
