Constance sat at her desk. For once, she wasn't bustling around the place doing paperwork that no one else seemed willing to properly file, scolding those very people, begging Astbury to let her do something or avoiding E.B. Instead, she was sitting very calmly at her immaculate desk with her hands folded in front of her. She was staring down with an empty gaze, her focus on her thoughts rather than anything sitting before her. It was rare for Constance to cut such an introspective figure...but no one around her seemed to notice.

She blinked and looked at her hands, opening them slightly to reveal a small scrap of paper. Will Channing had slipped it into her hands after he caught her crying in the ladies' room vestibule. He had questioned her gently, and when she steadfastly refused to tell him what was wrong (becoming increasingly flustered and vulgar as his interrogation progressed), he had removed it from his own pocket and handed it to her: this innocuous little scrap of paper. On it was the following:

Dr. Nicholas Preston
Wickliff Mental Health Center

Constance sighed and covered it up again. She'd just returned from the file room, where she'd looked him up. He was a Muggle, in the process of divorcing a witch...but more interestingly, he was a psychiatrist. Why Will thought she needed a psychiatrist was beyond her. Indeed, why Will had had the name in the first place was confusing--he was the last person she knew who needed a shrink. Maybe he kept it on hand so that he could give it out to people like Constance, who cried in the dark corners of their workplaces.

She hadn't even known why she was crying. Something to do with...feeling unfulfilled. She was twenty-four, after all, too young to feel like she was wasting her life. She was locked in a vicious circle--she couldn't make any friends because she worked too much, she worked too much because she was trying to avenge her family, she couldn't avenge her family because there was no evidence, because there was no evidence she got depressed and because she got depressed she couldn't make any friends.

She laid her head on her desk. Maybe Will had been right to hand her that horrible scrap of paper.

Somedays Sofia didn't know whether to cry or punch someone in the face - usually she opted for a compromise of polite indifference. Less people noticed her excessively violent mood swings when she was prancing about in the expected pureblood manner. This little charade would have worked too if Will hadn't caught wind of her pet project, finding Wendell's body and terrorizing his murder.

As if that man hadn't caused her enough turmoil. There wasn't a night when she didn't close her eyes and see Wendell's face, now accompanied by Will's haunting announcement at that fateful funeral.

Saved his real love for one person

There they were echoing again. How she hated the man for saying those words. The ray of doubt or glimmer of enlightenment it had cast on her relationship with Wendell Darrow had done more than the most inhuman of curses could have ever done on her psyche. To make matters worse Will had had the nerve to offer her advice! He had recommended she visit Dr. Nicholas Preston last week - catching her after a rather... intense interrogation. How was she to know he had been watching it?

Then there was the mess with Dillan. If she loved Wendell as she had begun to suspect after Will had put that seed in her mind then how was it she was falling so quickly for another man? Could one find two kindred souls in less than a month? Or was she simply trying to satisfy her family after failing to do so for herself? Sofia needed some paper work to clear her head fast - Will's threat of actually having her see the doctor having worked well enough to keep her away from the field for a couple days.

In an effort to pull her mind out of the well of confusion followed by depression it was once again threatening to fall into Sofia began to look for a suitable distraction en rout to her desk. It was with great regret she found that Dillan was out - she wanted to confirm their sushi dinner location. Only Fallon was in the office, looking just as put out as she felt and staring at something white. A white scrap of paper that looked rather similar to the one Will had given her....

Was it psychiatric consultation awareness month?

Unable to help herself, and willing at this moment in time to put away her natural loathing of the Scott Sofia approached. "Are you alright Fallon?" She asked, her voice sounding oddly concerned. It wasn't every day she saw Fallon in such a position of defeat. "Do you need some help?" Nope no irony there. It just seemed Will thought they all needed help.

"Are you alright Fallon?"

Who was speaking? Constance took a moment to guess before she raised her head, wanting to decide if it was someone she actually wanted to talk to or not. Based on the concerned tone and female voice, in combination with the less familiar usage of her last name to address her, she guessed that it was probably Lucia. They weren't particularly close, but Constance had never had a problem with Lucia. She deemed it acceptable to speak to her in this odd mood, and began to lift her head. It really would have been alright to speak with anyone, as long as it wasn't E.B. or...

Sofia Robards.

Constance gaped up at her coworker, momentarily speechless. Obviously the woman had tricked her, and had intended for this all along. That wasn't concern, it was mockery! Leave it to an English pureblood to amuse herself picking on the poor Scottish half-blood. This was why Constance tried never to show weakness; as soon as you did, the wolves around you took advantage of it. She began to recover her senses and was preparing to stand and chase the woman off when Sofia spoke again.

"Do you need some help?"

"Oh, aye," she said, laughing uncomfortably. "Don't we all need some help?" She shook her head and looked down at her desk, where the little scrap of paper was now exposed. Constance laughed again and held it up, turning to smile grimly at the other woman. "Will's jus' taken it upon himself to remind me that it's time fer my psychiatric evaluation," she said. She chuckled again, looking down at the paper...then became serious.

"Therapy. Do ye ever consider it, Robards?" she asked quietly and sincerely. She looked up at Sofia. "I mean, ye always want to think ye're a well-adjusted individual who dinna need it, but...ach, I dunno. Maybe Will's on to something."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, where thought was still rational, a little miniature Constance was jumping up and down trying to remind her host that Sofia Robards was her arch enemy, but at the moment conscious Constance was being very mature. Robards had reached out to her; it was only fair to reach back. Whether this trend continued or they reverted back to their usual insults (Sofia's thinly veiled, Con's blatant) depended on Sofia's next move.

"Oh, aye," she said, laughing uncomfortably. "Don't we all need some help?"

Sofia felt it was best probably not to answer that. She was not the depressed looking one who probably did need some help (the woman was scottish after all). Instead she gave a non committal little shrug. There, that could be taken any way - given her history with Constance it would lead to some aggressive comment or another.

"Will's jus' taken it upon himself to remind me that it's time fer my psychiatric evaluation," she said.

Sofia laughed along with the other woman failing to se the humor, but pleased to have her curiosity satisfied. Psychiatric evaluations were not required on any level that she knew of. Or rather Sofia herself had never been subjected to such things till Will had oh so kindly suggested she pay the good 'Doctor' a visit. Their laughter died away awkwardly, Constance becoming serious.

"Therapy. Do ye ever consider it, Robards? I mean, ye always want to think ye're a well-adjusted individual who dinna need it, but...ach, I dunno. Maybe Will's on to something."

Her curiosity was satisfied. She really no longer needed to be nice yet there was something in Constance's look, her tone. She sounded like she needed a good talk... with a woman she professed to hate? And people had the gaul to call her two-faced at times. At least she wasn't bipolar with those she loathed, anymore. Wendell was gone so really that statement could be true. That and the whole maybe love thing sort of canceled out the short period of loathing bit. Just maybe.

Her hand slowly slipped around the slip of paper in her own pocket. "I'll never considered therapy." She responded, the words sounding disgustingly blunt. Constance did tend to bring out her less tactful side.

There was a slightly awkward pause. Maybe too blunt? Defensive?

"However if its any conciliation, Will doesn't seem to think I'm a well adjusted individual either, " She remarked with a rueful smile, "and here I thought I was doing so well." She slipped out the throughly wrinkled and beyond mangled card from her pocket and set it next to its twin, giving a little shrug. "Were you, how was it... 'strongly urged' to see him as well? I got the odd impression that was Will's way of saying we're required to go."

"I've never considered therapy."

Suddenly Constance felt extremely self-conscious. Of course Robards had never considered therapy--even if most of Level Two was convinced she needed it, the woman was far too proud to ever even give the matter a second thought...wasn't she? People often said the same things about Constance herself: that she should see a shrink but refused to admit that she needed to. Either way, she had obviously chosen the wrong person to disclose this new trend of thought to. She should have just insulted her as per usual and gone back to her own brooding--

"However if its any conciliation, Will doesn't seem to think I'm a well adjusted individual either."

Constance looked up as Robards pulled a matching piece of paper out of her pocket and laid it next to Constance's. The same name and address were written upon it in Will's easy handwriting. Con stared at them for a moment. Her first experience following this new information was a slight feeling of satisfaction that Robards had been given a rather forceful hint as well. Her second was an anxious wondering if it had been only pressed upon those two, or if Will was making his rounds to everyone. Her next inclination was to take offense at being lumped by Will into a group of mentally unstable persons, which, perhaps worst of all (though certainly sadistically satisfying) included Sofia Robards.

"Well, I suppose Will's as good a judge as any of what bein' well-adjusted is," Constance said, chuckling half-heartedly again. She questioned again her decision to speak calmly and dare she say it, politely with Sofia Robards, but she honestly didn't think she could handle confrontation at the moment. It was her first day back at work, a week after her public break-up with E.B., and she wanted to re-establish the office as a comfortable place again.

"At any rate I suppose it can't hurt to go," the Scot continued, shrugging. "I've checked this guy out, an' he seems to be...legitimate," she finished awkwardly.

"Well, I suppose Will's as good a judge as any of what bein' well-adjusted is,"

Then she gave a chuckle. As if Fallon thought she was...the nerve of that stupid Scot. How dare she even suggest that she was not - no that statement there was a testament to how unbalanced the other woman was.

Sofia was not.

She was a perfectly normal rational human being that was going through a rough time. Everyone had times where they wanted to kick the teeth in of every person they saw, she was just lucky and could vent it though her job in a healthy and productive way. Never mind she hadn't found proper closure for the Wendell situation - that was just being channeled into rage. Fallon was just mental. It was in her impure scots blood. That much was apparent. Which was why Sofia kept her emotions carefully from her face, it was always best not to antagonize a crazy unbalanced scot - she knew her history.

"At any rate I suppose it can't hurt to go," the Scot continued, shrugging. "I've checked this guy out, an' he seems to be...legitimate."

Not hurt to go? Was the Scot entertaining thoughts of going? At least that would be one crazy out of the office, especially when the shrink said she was unfit for work on account of her being a mess.

A small encouraging smile slipped across her features, "It couldn't hurt to go at all. If you say he's reputable I suppose we all should." Anything to get Fallon put on leave. A dream come true. That would make up for the lack of Wendell's body... then she would only have to deal with Will's stupid comment.

She was perfectly capable of treating all her problems by her self. Fallon on the other hand might turn into a savage kilt wearing scot at the drop of a hat.

"You set up an appointment and let me know how he is - I've have to go see if Di - Wentworth is in yet so that I can confirm somethings." Sofia could have sworn the other woman was giving her a skeptical look. "His papers still haven't come." She added - unsure if she had imagined the look or what the look was a result of. She and Dillan were merely lunch and dinner buddies, did no one get that?