2009-11-21: Ca-Ca



Date: November 21, 2009


A slip of the tongue leaves Hallis suspicious and her therapist dumping her.


Hallis' Apartment - New York

Dressed in her little black dress and red pumps, Sydney pads down the hall to Hallis' apartment. She knocks at the door somewhat apprehensively, a little unsure as whether making a house call in this instance is prudent, but against her better judgment (something she hasn't been exercising much lately), she knocks at the door and calls, "Hallis? It's Sydney…"

The sound of the knock came just as Hallis was getting out of the shower, unfortunately the voice at the end is missed in favor of some hair drying with a towel. "Just a minuuuuuute!" she sings out in a rahter excited voice, she is expecting someone quite different from the woman at the door. Wrapping herself in a towel, she is prepared to give the man she expects a little treat and so she ruffles her fingers through her hair, applies a little mascara, and glosses her lips, adding just a touch of color to the bottom one to give herself a little pout. Sex-ay. After admiring herself in the mirror, she grins and gives herself a little air kiss just before heading to the door. Three deadbolts are unlocked and she swings it open to reveal her own form in nothing but a skimpy towel. "SURPRI—-AAAAAHHHH! SYDNEY WHAT THE HELL?!?"

"AHhHHH!" Sydney responds as she clamps her eyes shut, turns her head, and takes a step back, only to trip on her own heels, particularly as her eyes are still shut. Literally falling head over heels. "Ow…" she mumbles as her eyes are still closed. "Didn't you hear me say it was me?! I'm not that kind of therapist, Hallis! I'm… I'm a professional!" She frowns as she manages to sit up, eyes still closed, high heels strewn across the floor.

Gripping the towel that is currently slipping off her slight figure, Hallis stumbles backward and wheezes a few times, still trying to catch her breath. "JE-ZUSS! No I didn't hear it was you! I was expecting George!" Wrestling one hand on the towel and trying to keep both sides up, the other goes to the door and she jerks her head to motion the therapist inside. "Get in quick, I'll change. God, where have you been?! I've been trying to reach you for ages!"

Collecting herself, and her shoes, Sydney, pushes herself up to her feet and enters the room as Hallis ushers her in. "Is George coming over? Should I go…? Are you sure you want me here…" She sighs and nods at Hallis, "My phone died and I've been… preoccupied with other things. Haven't been home very much I'm afraid," she's been looking for Ivory. Again. She bads into the sitting room (which she'd become familiar with the last time she was here) and takes a seat on the couch.

"Well he was supposed to be over, but he's way late. That's why I was showering and… going to surprise him." Hallis admits, in a rather grumpy tone as she drifts toward her closet. Opening the double doors, she strides in with all the confidence of a cat. It only takes a minute before she emerges in something that doesn't cover her much more than the towel, but she doesn't seem to care. This is obviously a woman that is very comfortable with herself. The nearly see through tunic comes down just covering her posterior and the neck is open to allow one of her shoulders to slip out of it. Needless to say, the shirt looks very large on her. "You didn't get my messages then?" She asks, laying back on one of the chaise lounges.

"I just got your messages," Sydney twitches as she crosses her legs. She peers at Hallis curiously. She doesn't comment on the clothing, and her expression isn't even telling, but she flushes slightly. Whether the flush is because of the clothes or the situation itself, is unclear. "I came to respond. I thought about calling, but I just moved into the building and thought…" Pause. "…I should've called. I know I should've called… I'm sorry, that is my fault." She folds her hands in her lap. "So… there's a problem with the letter then?"

Nodding, Hallis puckers her lips slightly and widens her eyes. It's the look that drives George absolutely crazy, not that she knows it. "Yes," she admits frankly, her mood quite serene and calm. "I don't feel like writing it anymore. I don't think I should." Apparently the bout of conscience was something very alchohol induced. "I mean, I understand why you want me to write a letter to my rapist to apologize for raping me, but seriously. It makes no sense." Her haughty attitude is something Sydney can likely pick up on without the aide of her powers, it is clear that the woman bears none of the remorse she did the other night.

Sydney sighs. "I didn't assign the letter… you came up with that idea yourself," she uncrosses her legs and studies Hallis. "You were somewhat intoxicated at the time and we discussed fear and you wanted to apologize for startling Ca— the mind rapist." She forces a very weak smile. "And it's not about what she did to you. That's her fault and responsibility, we were just discussing her emotional motivation… do you remember any of this?" She arches an eyebrow.

Hallis doesn't miss the slip of the tongue, "Ca? Who is Ca? Do you know the mind rapist?" She suddenly sits up to stare openly at the woman in the large leather chair. She crosses her legs to keep a little bit of propriety, not that she's ashamed but her therapist doesn't need to see what she has on underneath the tunic. "I remember all of it! But I don't feel the same way I did then. I had too much to drink and I just don't care about making her feel good about violating me."

"I don't," Sydney says honestly. She doesn't know Cassie/Lena, really. They met. That doesn't mean they know each other. She nods a bit at the lack of enthusiasm, "It wasn't about making her feel good about violating you…" The therapist is feeling a bit hopeless at this moment. The breakthrough didn't last. "It was about you letting it go. We weren't even going to get it to the mind rapist, remember? This is about you, not her. Letters are for us to let go, rather than let another person exert control over us." She frowns, "I've written many a letter that I ripped up to free myself from my past." She offers a shrug and a strained smile, "It's about leaving the past behind."

Unfortunately, Hallis doesn't let it go. "Why did you call her Ca? Should I be getting my lawyer or something? Are you in league with her?" Slowly, Hallis slips from the lounge and edges her way to her purse. "How much do you know about her? I want you to tell me everything I told you in my sessions and anything you know about her!" The accusations are flying and the socialite's paranoia is bordering on mental illness. Last night she was ready to let the woman go just because she knew there would never be reprecussions, now? Based on one syllable, she's ready to call out every hound she knows.

Blinking Sydney frowns. There's nothing she can say or do other than reiterate what Hallis told her in sessions. She takes a few deep breaths to keep herself calm and try to send that into the room, hopefully Hallis will catch it. "Well… you told me that she was at Ling's and she helped you. She helped you out of the room, but made you feel… joygasmic." Sydney swallows. "And you called her the girl with the bad hair. I believe you met her again, and I'd recommended that perhaps you chat with her to try to understand what happened." She pauses and then adds, "I named her Carol in my notes for my own benefit. Writing 'the girl with the bad hair' is tedious. So I renamed her. I do that frequently…" It is something therapists do, although this isn't what Sydney has done…

Quite a few cleansing breaths later, Hallis calms, but not enough to aleviate any suspicions she may harbor. "I want to see your notes, where are they? They're in my file, right?" She flits to her purse and pulls out her cellular phone. She missed his call, how could she miss his call? Shaking her head, she points the small apparatus to the therapist and clenches her jaw. "I want to see your notes so I can compare them to my book."

"You may see my notes. But you need to book an appointment for that as I have to put them all together," Sydney offers a weak smile. "And yes, I keep all of the notes, and you can have access to them." She tilts her head a bit and notes that she'll have to go to the office and rewrite them all. That will be a pain. "Your book? What's your book? You were journalling?" Her eyes light up at the notion that Hallis actually followed the regimen Sydney put her on.

"No, my book." Hallis counters, not giving an inch on Sydney's notes. Keeping an eye on the blonde woman, she dials her phone and places it to her ear. "Mumsy? Do you know if Daddy knows who runs Hope Hearth Distress Center?" Pause. "Can you have him find out? There's a file there, my file, I'd like to see it but I need an appointment." Another pause. "No, I can't wait… there's something in that file that I need right now." Yes another pause. "Okay, thank you mumsy! Kisses!" And the phone is turned off.

Turning back to Sydney, Hallis shrugs and tosses the phone back into her purse. "I thought that I was making progress, you know? But it's stuff like this… people just don't understand. Why would you call someone Carol in your notes instead of Miss B, or something like that? It just doesn't make sense." Through all of it, Hallis remains the perfect picture of calm.

"No one can access the notes except me," Sydney says idly. "Hence the need for an appointment. We're very stringent on that as there were issues before." She offers Hallis a shrug. "Plus they're not all in the same place." Some are on her laptop. Some are in her files at the Centre. Some are in a different cabinet at the centre.

She tilts her head slightly, "I come up with names based on people I know to help me remember later." She smirks, "Carol was a girl I grew up with who was in the goth crowd and spiked her hair. Hence the girl with the bad hair. The notes are my own. The format is my own…" She peers at Hallis, still maintaining her own cool.

"So… if they're not all in the same place, then you have some of them at your apartment?" Hallis quips, keeping a sharp eye on Sydney. It's a horrible thing to ruin what could have been a beautiful friendship, even more horrible to waste good therapy. Unfortunately, Hallis has spent a lifetime with wasted opportunities and not caring about anything but her own instant gratification. "Because if they're not all there, then they're somewhere else…."

"I don't bring work home," Sydney hisses as she rises to her feet, smoothing her dress. "You'll get your notes on Monday, during ordinary office hours." She frowns and shakes her head, "I shouldn't have come to check on you." There's a pause. "I think we should terminate our therapy together. Clearly, I crossed a professional boundary with you during one of our previous encounters." She frowns as she pads to the door, "You can't bully me into getting your way." She lingers at the door and adds, "If you want to consult with someone else at the Centre, talk to Dr. Masterson, she's more specialized for your… unique needs." Sydney's lips twitch as she reaches for the door handle.

"At least she won't lie to me." Hallis mutters, turning away from Sydney. Her head is lowered and her shoulders sag in defeat. "I was stupid to think that anyone would ever care. Sorry to waste your time." she remark bitterly. The socialite doesn't even look at the door as her now ex-therapist and a woman she once considered a friend makes her way through it. Then she stalks over to the bar and pours herself a drink, a very stiff drink akin to the ones she had in Washington. "By the way…" she adds as the woman is still within earshot. "Some woman was looking for you today."

The therapist doesn't regard Hallis' words with any weight. In fact, they're met with little more than a very small twitch. In her own mind there's a difference between professional confidentiality and lying. In this case, this is the former rather than the latter. The door is opened, but Sydney lingers just a second, "What woman?" She tightens her jaw and frowns. She's been connected to too many people lately.

Shrugging, Hallis takes a quick swig of her drink and places the glass down on the bar. "I'll call your office on Monday and tell your secretary since that's how things work now." And then she moves toward the door, trying to give herself the grace of succombing to her tears alone. "You need to leave now," she utters faintly, reaching to pull the door open by the wood even further. Her distress is quite evident, though by both of their admission, it's not the taller blonde's problem anymore.

"That's fine with me," Sydney quips as she slams the door behind her. At this moment, her own rage is more than evident and radiates through the spaces of the hallway and down the hall into various other apartments where randomly people can be heard yelling at each other. Setting her jaw tightly, she pads down the hallway to the Distress Centre to change her notes.

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