“Okay!” Emina Karimi said, hurrying into her office and closing the door behind her. “Sorry about that, I hate to leave people waiting but you know, sometimes things come up.” She had a soft, cheeful voice.

Neither Katters nor Zebra replied as she stepped past them to the other side of the room, sitting in front of her desk. This left the room open between herself and her patients, lots of open space, no barriers. Very healthy. [AN This is an unclear image, describe it better]

“Why don’t we get to know each other a little, before we start?” She smiled.

“No,” Katters said.

“Oh. Well, okay.”

“I don’t want to be here,” Katters said. “I want to be anywhere but here.”

“You know we can’t leave,” Zebra said to her, quietly, “unless we cooperate.”

“You cooperate,” Katters snapped. “I’ve been here before, I’ve done my time.”

“Katters,” Zebra said, still quiet, but forceful. “You know I can’t leave, unless you cooperate.”

“God, fine. I hate this.”

Emina sat for a moment, a smile still on her lips. “Okay,” she said again. “I can tell you’re uncomfortable. Let’s start with what brings you here? What are you hoping to get out of this?”

“It’s—” Zebra hummed, thinking of the best way to put it. “Mandatory. We’ve been compelled to speak with a counsellor about our inter-relationship strife.”

“Okay, so you want to work past that strife?”

“I’m fine with strife,” Katters cut in. “I’m perfectly happy with strife. I’m not happy with therapy.”

“We just want to get through this,” Zebra said.

Emina nodded. “Well, it sounds like there is something to work through. Before we begin — there’s no judgements here, of course, but I just want to say that I’ve never worked with an, uh, inter-species couple, before, so I apologise if—”

Katters made a sudden whining noise. “Not!” she said too loud. “Not a couple!”

“Well,” Zebra shrugged. “We used to be.”

“Nnnn!” Katters emphasised.

Zebra continued, thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, I don’t think we ever actually broke up.”

Katters stood up and paced across the room. “Nnnn!”

“She still has the ring I bought her.”

Katters pulled at her ear. “Nnnnn!”

“So I suppose technically we’re engaged? But I doubt either of us plan on doing anything about that.”

Katters paced back over to her chair and sat heavily into it, biting her thumb. “We’re not! A couple!” she repeated.

“Oh,” Emina said.

“You see,” Zebra said to her. “This is part of the problem. I mean, in a way, she’s right,” he turned to Katters. “But do you have to say it like that?”

“Hmm,” Emina hummed. “Well, how would you define your relationship?”

“I fucking hate him,” Katters said.

“Oh,” Emina repeated.

“No, I mean, I don’t.” Katters sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, it sounds like this is hard for you. Zebra, why don’t you tell me a little about how you see the relationship?”

“We’re friends. Is that so hard?”

“We’re not though!” Katters said. “I mean, I guess we are, but “friends” doesn’t really cover it, not really. No word really covers it. It’s weird. This is dumb.”

“Okay,” Emina said, sensing a throughline. “So you feel like you and Zebra are more than friends, but less than a couple? And trying to feel that out makes you uncomfortable?”

Katters glared at her. “Yeah,” she said, finally.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that. A lot of people have trouble defining their relationships. It can feel very personal.”

“Oh, god,” Katters said.

“Let’s step back,” Emina said, spreading her hands, still smiling. Open. Inviting. Healthy. “How did you two meet? What brought you together?”