Therapy?

Nicholas eyeballed the dark haired woman sitting across from him strangely, "Now I ain't one to catcall or even look but hot damn woman, what the fuck did they feed you over there, petroleum? Oil? Did you eat your twin in yo mama's womb or sum? Jesus fucking christ."

As evident by his rant, the pale haired teenager was well and truly shocked by the appearance of the new 'doctor' assigned to him. She had long dark hair that reached her knees, golden eyes and by the big man himself, the most... voluptuous figure he'd ever seen, period.

"I thought the back alley Saint was thick but... gyat."

"I... erm, I'm sorry. I don't understand what you're saying... at all." The woman answered politely, looking down at the small notepad in her hand before looking at him again, "Let's try this again, please?"

Nicholas gave a small nod, looking around at the office curiously.

It was bland and typical, with a shelf displaying a number of psychology related books he didn't give two shits about, a window pane that gave a view into nothing but snow for miles and miles, and of course, the walls were white and metallic, course they were.

He'd have to ask Olga to...

Nicholas suddenly became depressed... He hadn't seen her for two days now.

"I'm Nicholas Martel."

"And I'm Kiara Sessyoin, I used to work as a therapist for the Seraphix Oil Rig but the... late Director Olga Marie Animusphere reassigned me to you. I'm sorry for considering it favouritism, you need the help... Now all of humanity needs yours too." Kiara smiled gently and earnestly, placing a hand over her chest, "I hope I can help with at least some of the stress someone in your position would have? We can do whatever you want. Mhm."

"So you're a hooker? Damn, didn't think she'd get me one."

"Eh??"

The therapist short-circuited for a moment before she recoiled physically and GYAT, her 'body' literally jiggled as an embarrassed blush crept onto her features, "I-I'm not a prostitute... I'm your therapist! Ahem, I was aware but it really might take some time to get accustomed to your vocabulary." She still spoke politely, smiling and pumping her fist with eyes shining in conviction, "But I'm sure we can get through whatever is wrong with you together!"

"...So the black man needs therapy and you folk can just go around Michael Myer'ing all over the place." Nicholas delivered his words with a deadpan, still in the middle of processing just how he was supposed to interact with his new 'personal' doctor.

Kiara hesitated for a moment before muttering something to herself and shaking her head, "I got the psyche report from Professor Lev but Doctor Roman told me to disregard it... He said it was false but the Professor may have been right about the delusions."

She took his joke literally.

The therapist nodded to herself before continuing, "And when did you realise you were...bl-... darkly pigmented?"

"No, I'm not doing this." Deadpanning, Nicholas held up his hand, showing her his forearm, "In what world is this called black?"

It appeared as if He had finally met his match... Someone so accepting of random bullshit that it just didn't work on her at all.

"But... you're the one who claims he's black."

"Gaawd, come on man, what's wrong with you?" Nicholas' typically expressionless face scrunched up to a noticeable degree, "You can't be real."

There was no way someone like this existed, no way in hell, he wasn't going to believe it. Was this a ploy by one of the Demon Gods or some shit?

"I-I'm just trying to help." Kiara sighed, her features portraying genuine worry. The therapist looked at him for a few moments before again looking at her notepad, "Earlier, when I said late Director, you seemed to dislike the notion... How does her situation make you feel?"

Nicholas narrowed his eyes, "What's it supposed to make me feel like?"

"Frustrated maybe? ...Annoyed? Angry?"

"I guess yeah." The teenager relaxed into his chair, scratching the back of his head before sighing, "I guess it's annoying as fuck how she's out of commission till a body's built... No wait, it's annoying as fuck I didn't get rid of the motherfucker as soon as I noticed he felt fucked up."

Kiara's smile suddenly became strained and Nicholas knew exactly why, "...And why didn't you?"

"Well if I started killing every poor son of a bitch I didn't vibe with, it'd be pretty fucked up... can't do that."

The therapist visibly relaxed, heaving a relieved sigh, "And what about Bill? He was your friend wasn't he? I was told you didn't take well to his unfortunate, passing."

"God bless that man, I loved his beardy ass like a brother." Nicholas smiled faintly, "Hope he's in a better place or Big G and me are gonna have some serious beef when I get up there."

"It seems like you've made peace with it."

"Yeah, kinda." Nicholas gave a small nod before pausing and leaning forward, "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"It looks like you're actually tryna help me, I can tell..." He considered himself good at discerning people's actual natures and God knew he'd beaten the shit out of enough therapists looking to make a good buck off his old man, "Why though? Most ladies I see like you know what they got and make full use of it... Too much use I'd say."

"I... I don't get what you mean? Use of what?"

"You're pretty as shit is what I'm saying."

"E-Eh? Well... uhm, t...thank you?"

-

Emiya listlessly walked through Chaldea's hauntingly empty corridors, "I feel like these people are going to make me insane."

What kind of insane Master stopped a conflict between his servants by stealing their noble phantasms and then punching them? They were heroes of legend, the two he punched were the cream of the crop even among heroes of legend and somehow... somehow they listened to him.

And don't even get him started about how the man supposedly beat the shit out of a literal immortal Deity one sidedly, it was just too absurd for a man of cold logic like Emiya.

Somewhere along the way, the servant found himself chuckling to himself, "I guess idiots like those are what end up saving humanity most of the time?"

"Definitely, I think our Master definitely has what it takes to become a hero... not a tyrant but a hero... definishely. We'll jush have tho take share of him until thesh."

"Don't talk with food in your mouth, woman." Sighing, Archer wiped the unruly Saber's mouth with a tissue, "What did you even get here? Wait... I don't wanna know, what are you doing here?"

Of course his effort was all washed down the drain when Artoria Alter just shoved her vanilla ice cream back into her mouth, unbothered with cleanliness or elegance.

A tyrant did what she wanted, whenever she wanted.

Screw being all prim and proper.

"I wanshed to ask him to play this game called Bloodborne... I found it in his room." She answered flatly, expressionless as always, "We'll conquer Yharnam together."

"Uh-huh." Archer nodded disinterestedly, pressing a button on the console next to the room Nicholas was supposed to be having his therapy session in.

The sight that greeted them would give him nightmares for the rest of his life.

"I used to be sickly and bedridden until a kind doctor came with the cure... I-I tried to follow in his footsteps and help others but p-people tried to kill me f-for it... How... can they be so mean? They said my work was stupid because it made no p-profit... Why would they even care about profit?... And... And now, the only p-people that didn't mind are gone with the Seraphix!"

The 'therapist' was sitting on a chair, sniffling, teary eyed with a box of tissues in her hands, and sharing her life story with her patient who was somehow silent and actually listening to something other than his destructively intrusive thoughts.

What the fuck was going on here?

"What the fuck is going on here?"

"I thought Archers were supposed to have the best vision out of all the servants."

-

...

Nicholas isn't overreacting you know?