Cautious, perceptive, and borderline paranoid by nature, Khalid had a knack for detecting problems. Such skills were vital for survival in supernatural fields of study like his, and with so many monsters nearby today, the investigator was on high alert. From the moment he first set foot in the cafeteria, he’d gotten the sense that something was off about the place, but like any good scientist he couldn’t jump to conclusions right off the bat. Maybe things were just bound to be different in a busier, livelier cafeteria like this one, or maybe his reservations were playing tricks on him. Nevertheless, he kept a sharp eye out, and after finding somewhere to sit and partake of his dinner in relative peace, he could gradually come to the conclusion that something really was wrong in here.

Luckily, it seemed to have nothing to do with him. A disproportionate number of the monsters in his vicinity seemed annoyed or dissatisfied. Nobody appeared to be angry enough to make a scene or anything, but the put-upon communal air could hardly be denied.  The incredulous looks that various monsters offered to their friends, and the reluctance with which they dug into their fare, suggested that they’d been forced to settle for food that hadn’t been their first choice. Add to that the urgent activities of the restaurant staff, and Khalid could only conclude that something must be amiss in the kitchen. What that might be he couldn’t guess at, but it didn’t concern him unduly. Though certainly more scrupulous than his amorphous companion, Khalid wasn’t picky, and the cooks had done an admirable job of supplying the evening diners in spite of their technical troubles. So Khalid munched away in content and contemplative silence, idly curious about whatever might be going on behind the scenes, but much more concerned with anyone who might work up the courage to pay the alleged Shoggoth a visit.

And for once, fortune smiled upon him. Khalid noticed the tall, wiry woman on a collision course with his table well before she reached the social boundary. Never an optimist, though, he forced down his premature excitement. Khalid tried not to notice her, lest he appear overeager or quick to assume, until Iris stopped right in front of him and made her intentions unmistakable. When she spoke, offering a simple ‘so’ in lieu of an actual greeting, he sat at rapt attention with his eyebrows raised. It took several seconds -just long enough to make his brows crunch together in a questioning manner- for her to get her thoughts in order. It did occur that she might be bothered by the admittedly rather offensive smell given off by Horace, which he could never quite get used to himself. He wondered if she’d be brave enough to bring it up–if the monsters here were too polite to say that someone smelled bad, they really [i]had[/i] been tamed.

When Iris finally said something, she let loose a barrage of questions that took Khalid somewhat by surprise. They suggested a somewhat skeptical nature, but a complete lack of any actual prior knowledge about therapy itself beyond vague preconceived notions. That was good, since it gave him more free reign. An informed skeptic with something to prove (or disprove) was the last thing he needed. Only her last, more pointed question gave him pause, though luckily the woman’s mind seemed to wander after she asked, almost to the point of disassociation in fact. If she meant to catch Khalid in a lie, however, she would be disappointed. Naturally, he’d already considered this angle, and workshopped that he believed to be a satisfactory -and satisfactorily honest- answer.

Khalid tented his fingers and offered a polite smile. “Allow me to assuage your concerns. I am not a licensed professional…yet. I am, however, a graduate student with years of painstaking study under my belt. Neuroscience, atypical psychology, behavioral study…you get the drift, I’m sure. I am in the process of accruing clinical hours for the sake of licensure. It’s one of those ‘intern with six years of experience’ things. This is why my services are free of charge, you see. Professional therapy can be miserably expensive. So while there are certain things I cannot do, I have very strict rules to follow, and every incentive to provide as much genuine help as I possibly can.”

“As for how ‘therapy works’, well…” Khalid clasped his hands and shrugged with a gentle, pleasant expression on his face. “We would just chat. You could tell me about yourself, your story, what’s on your mind, any problems or struggles you might be experiencing…whatever you’re comfortable sharing. While I might prompt you here or there, you’d never have to say anything or answer any questions you don’t want to. My goal is to give you an outlet for your worries and fears, a safe space where you can be heard, free of bias and pretense, and to treat every monster -regardless of species- with the compassion and humanity they deserve. And of course, our sessions would be strictly private.” Khalid tilted his head slightly, his eyes inquisitive. “Well? No charge, no commitment, just two people engaged in as much -or as little- honest conversation as you wish. Can we help one another?"