Beca had always hated the idea of psychologists. Paying to talk about your private life? Hell no she's already paying her internet bill, logging into twitter was pretty much the same.
However, if there was something she hated way more about paying for a psychology session was the waiting room of said professional. The kind painted with so called "stress relief colors". Pure bullshit for Beca Mitchell.
"A fan of color hues?" a manly voice said from the other end of the room, shaking beca out of her hate-trance.
The brunette took a second to look at the figure standing before her. She guessed he was in his forty or the end of his thirties since his hair was beginning to paint itself grey but the way he was dressed made her wonder about his real age.
A plain blue t-shirt combined with khaki pants, and if that wasn't strange enough wait to hear about the pair of red converse on his feet. "Definitely a patient." Beca said to herself.
"Not at all actually." She said plainly. "I bet my salary it has a name like 'soothing evening breeze' or some shit like that." She couldn't help to control her old habit of rolling her eyes.
The man, who still remained unnamed raised an eyebrow at the statement. "You just lost your whole salary because this color is called 'Granny smith apple'." He said with half smile, as if he was proud of his knowledge. But the brunette woman simply let out a laugh.
"I'm sorry." Beca said still giggling. "I should get going, but it was a pleasure to talk to you."
The brunette swung her back pack over her shoulder and started to make her way out, but before she could walk past the man he stopped her. "That's not right, Mitchell." He said making her stop cold on her tracks. "Two minutes till four o' clock, you're just in time for our first session."
He had a warm smile on his face that Beca wanted to erase.
"You are- "
"Yes, I'm Shannon Brian." He cut before she could finish her sentence. "And no, I'm not a woman. Now shall we?"
Without a word, Beca entered the room. The sudden presentation with who was going to be her therapist kind of left her lost, she entered the waiting room with denial and nervousness and now she was filled with a 'what the fuck' sensation.
Young Emily Junk has had a rough day, her day started horribly bad when she found out they had run out of milk for breakfast, arrived late at one of her lectures and forgot her wallet so she had to skip lunch; but thankfully, her day was coming to an end.
Opening the apartment door, she let out a happy sigh knowing she was finally home. Her stomach growled reminding her of her missing lunch and failed breakfast, knowing Ally was the one of the groceries that week she hoped to see a brand new carton of milk. She was wrong.
"Oh frick!"
The young brunette stormed towards Ally's room and knocked hard on the door. "Ally." She called.
No answer.
She knocked once again, louder this time. "Ally?" Seeing there was absolutely no response she decided to check if the tall girl had fallen asleep.
"Al- OH MY STARS!" If Emily was right about something, it was that ally was indeed in bed but she never in a million years thought she would find her going down on someone.
"EMILY!" Ally yelled hiding behind the duvet and covering the girl underneath her.
Closing the door, the younger girl went straight to the bathroom to splash some water on her face.
