Abby has some hangup about licking.

"You say that I cannot touch you with any other part of my own body, but my hands???" I ask, back in my own chair.

Abby nods, pouting. "Pretty much."

"And that is why you refused to eat properly, at the Hot Stuffs?"

"Because that is not proper!"

"...in your world." I state calmly, finishing my diagnosis. "Wow, those are quite a lot of issues, but I think I have everything ready for a detailed report. Could you please wait outside with Erin, while I call social services?"

"Oh? What is going to happen next?" Abby asks, suddenly fidgeting around nervous again.

"Well, your case is too serious for you to just return to your home just yet."

Abby twitches. "....rrright...?"

"I do recommend continued therapy, for which I humbly recommend my own office, if you wish to stick with me. Otherwise, I can refer you to a colleague... which one do you prefer?"

Abby has been nodding, but now I see new worries dancing across her face, playing out as disgust, hope, and resignation. There may have been lust as well, but given her state of antisocial behaviour, that would just be an odd presumption. "Okay... um... I don't... I mean, I have no idea how other therapists work, but I guess you're doing okay...?"

"Fine then. My lovely assistant Erin will find you a follow-up appointment next week."

Abby stares at me with wide eyes and then sniffles.

I continue. "Social services will find an asylum with a free spot for your further treatment, based on the recommendations I make in my report. Your family will be fully able to visit you there at any moment..."

"My family?" Abby looks deperate. "Which family?"

You pause for a moment. "Didn't my brief say that you're from... Ah here. The Hope family, 46 Cockrain Street?"

"My name is Abby Hope, yes. And last week, I moved in with my sister Emma who lives in 182 Cochrane Street. We are... we were both single."

I pinch my nose. The appointment is on overtime already, I don't have time for an additional background delve. "So, musicians? Coochie, that's going to have to wait until next session. Do you understand why and how you are going to be institutionalized?"

"What? Musicians? No! I just wanted to say, I don't think I have a family here! Can't you... can't you help me?"

I nod. "As I said, social services will get my report and find you an appropriate asylum..."

"Nooo! Help! Me!" she wails. Abby gets up from the therapy couch and kneels in the center of my office, clasping her hands.

I glance over to the strap-on. But there is no time left for that.

At that moment, the door opens and Erin peeks inside. "Doc?"