She doesn't relent as Natsuki leans forward, mouths mere inches distant, breath candied with expensive cognac. Her voice is husky, hungrily lurid, gold eyes glassy. "I'd sleep a whole lot better in a nice, big bed with another warm body..." She realizes it's the wrong move as soon as the words are out of her mouth, retreating defensively back against the couch. Fingers disappear into her back pockets. Stupid, drunk girl... There's a pretty shake of her head, eyes lowered. Her voice is just a mutter now. This place..... It's getting to her already. There's a slow pink creep along her cheeks but it's hard to tell if it's embarassment or the cognac.... Or if it's all an act. "Sorry, Doc... It's just..." Eyes rising up, needy, desperately pleading. "I can't go back out there right now. Please. Could I maybe just. just. crash on the couch here for the night?"

Despite her intentions to conceal it, her eyes are reading niellwyn closely, judging tone of voice, posture, phrasing. She's certainly no expert but she's got instinct, and she's been around plenty of shrinks in the last few months. She clearly knows nothing about what she's getting into. Her lips curve upward as the doctor's speech suggests Anna's inching slowly into her comfort zone. "No, Doctor. I understand. Of course I understand." Tongue taps the roof of her mouth, eyes sliding to the floor coyly. "My doctor at Wild Oaks felt the same way. at first... I'd just feel safer in here. Just this once. You can seal the cabinets, lock the door behind you, and forget I was even here. I'll be gone by the morning."

Anna seemed to be gaining boldness, pressing Ms. Saika for the privilege of remaining in the room. Now was when the ersatz therapist would capitulate, feigning reluctance. She tapped her fingers on the desk. She touched her hair. She peered at the dregs of amber pooled in the bottom of her empty snifter. Procrastination, avoiding the appearance of decision though her mind was made up. Anna would get just what she was asking for. Congratulations, crafty girl. The game continues.

Once Natsuki was satisfied that her reticence was believed she stood crisply and began a circuit around the room, inspecting her various file cabinets and her desk drawers, locking them one after another with a small key. As she performed this expected task she deliberately left a few containers unlocked, as if from forgetfulness or haste. These held items specially chosen to intrigue Anna, her subject: her psychological profile, transcript, medical history, and an orange plastic bottle of gel caps, filled with a dilute dose of Natsuki's compelling semen. As a small joke Natsuki had labeled the medication bottle with professional correctness; the chemical names for the esoteric compounds that comprised her seed would be meaningless to any but a scientist, exactly like most other medications. A post-it note affixed to the bottle read: Possible anti-stress meds for Anna. Consider milder alternatives. Besides these carefully planted items, the room was bereft of significant materials. All the locked containers contained nothing whatsoever, and were locked only to maintain the ruse.

Ms. Saika capped the cognac and transferred it to her desk. The package of cigarettes was slipped into her decolletage. "You have my permission to remain here until eight o clock tomorrow morning, Anna. My appointments will begin at that time, so you'll need to be elsewhere by then." The faux therapist turned to gaze at her 'patient' a last time with more than professional interest, then hastily gained the exit, closing the door carefully behind her. The deadbolt on Anna's side spun as Natsuki used her key, shielding the young woman from intruders but allowing her the liberty to depart at any time.

Now with Anna sequestered Natsuki lifted her hand in front of her face and concentrated on the light hitting it. Something in her consciousness shifted, and she felt the Other within her respond. A moment later she was gone, the ambient crimson of Shokushu's twilight passing straight through her flesh without disruption. Invisible, Natsuki concentrated once more and became briefly insubstantial, then stepped through the wall and into the office. There she could observe Anna at her leisure, the perfect voyeur. She smiled with enthusiasm, finally able to drop pretenses and enjoy herself. She wondered how long it would take before her patient started to explore.

She can't help but smile at Natsuki's flustered reticence, smugly satisfied at her own potent allure, ignorantly oblivious to the fact that she's playing right into the creature's expectations. "Thank you, Dr. Saika," she purrs in a husky rumble that suggests the Doctor might take payment for the favor in any way she desires. Golden eyes follow her circuit, clearly more interested in the woman's body language than in the drawers and cabinets she's meticulously locking up. There will be plenty of time to explore later, after all. She remains curled quietly on the couch the whole time, eyes big and settled on Ms. Saika, like a pet grown accustomed to the ritual morning abandonment of the office commute, but melancholy still, the very model of mounting separation anxiety. The Doctor is her one port in the storm. "Good night, Doctor Saika..." she murmurs, and for a few heart beats her eyes remain affixed to the door. Finally, she coils back around herself, snuggled into couch, and one who hadn't read her profile might possibly believe she'll just sleep through the night.

Minutes pass as she soaks in the silence and then she rises and sets about making the rounds, testing cabinets and drawers. The liquor is locked away, but she'll live. The notable absence of any personal effects is carefully stored away in her mind. Either she has no family or is studious in keeping her private life private. Either way, it recalls the notable question of exactly what motivates her to take on a position at a school like this. When she sinks to a seat in the Doctor's comfortable chair, she has the pile of materials neatly stacked atop the desk. It's curious that the few things the woman would leave behind explicitly highlight Anna's own psychiatric history. She wouldn't... A few possible explanations cross Anna's mind, all varying degrees of nefarious, but she shakes them away. No, of course not. And as the thoughts drift from her mind she realizes she hasn't checked the drawers. Sure enough, jackpot. Sharp smile creeps across her features, turning the pill bottle over in her hand. She twists the top off, swallowing one of the gel caps, tucking a few more away in a tight pocket before meticulously replacing the bottle just as she found it. She stifles a yawn.

And as she starts to drift off in her new shrink's plush chair, her fingers tip-toe down her exposed midriff, disappearing under tight denim. Eyes slip closed as fingers rise then disappear against the fabric in slow, methodic rhythm, shallow gasps punctuating the mental escapades of the svelte, professional woman that flutter across her subconscious.