Tormund opened the door to his office, the stench of stuffy books and old ink not doing much to elevate his already dour mood. If anything, it made it worse. There was a time he used to love to pour over page after page of anything from school assignments to dime novels from the 50s. Nowadays, however, he only read because it was required for papers and reports. If he had his druthers, he would be in sessions with clients and then following up with them almost all of the time. Talking to people about their issues and solving their problems, coming up with solutions they hadn t thought of jazzed Tormund s mind. These very solutions were his bread and butter. Slogging through paragraph after paragraph of ancient case studies just didn t make his cock jump in his tighty whities as of late.

Tormund sat back in his chair and ran a hand over his full red beard and through his thick wavy hair. He straightened his dark blue jacket and striped tie as he looked over his caseload for the day. As one of the newest counselors in the Psychiatric Department at one of the largest hospitals in Chicago, Tormund was given the weird ones, the cases no other therapist wanted. He didn t mind. Come to think of it, he preferred the challenging ones. Tormund paused and shook his head. Oh, who was he kidding? He hated them. He only wished to get through them, pay his dues, and get on to something more interesting.

He heard a loud rapt upon the door, breaking him out of the grip of his melancholy. Grateful, he sat up straighter in the high backed brown leather chair he had come to loathe as he cleared his throat.

"Come in!" He bellowed, his deep booming voice carrying out into the halls, around the corner, and as far as the nurse s station. If Tormund laughed, everyone in the building knew his location.

The heavy wooden door creaked open and Mance Randar, head of the department, walked in, his patent leather shoes making a scuffing sound on the newly polished floor. Mance was wearing one of those three piece suits whose time had come and gone...a long, LONG time ago. It was bad enough it was made of a thick corduroy but the color looked like dark caramel had been burnt and smeared all over the fabric. Tormund reminded himself never to go shopping with the man.

Mance didn't bother looking at Tormund as his attention was drawn to the painting of the bear on the wall behind his most recent employ as he entered the room. Mance grimaced as he regarded Tormund s choice of art, his brows drawing close enough together they almost touched, stopping just short of the desk. Tormund stood up, his frame straightening. He could feel as well as hear a couple of his vertebrae shift back into place. He needed to get back to the chiropractor as soon as possible.

"Interesting choice of subject." Mance scoffed as he slowly lowered his weight onto the armchair, the wood creaking under the sheer weight. If Mance had exercised at all in the past few years the program he was using really needed to change.

Tormund sat back down. "It was a gift from my late wife. She was a painter and specialized in forests and all the creatures who dwelled in them. She loved them all but bears were a particular favorite. Their strength, their resilience, and the fact they took no shit from the rest of the forest inhabitants. Maybe that s why she married me." Tormund laughed.

Mance s expression didn't change, the humorless bastard. "Maybe it's because both of you have about the same amount of hair."

Tormund huffed, his eyes betraying his mirth. "No, as much as my wife liked my fur she adored her bears. Dragged me to the zoo just to see them. Would spend hours..."

"Mr. Giantsbane," Mance cut him off, scooting the chair closer to the desk. Tormund mimicked his movements and sank back into the over-sized chair. "There is a space in the sexual therapy department opening soon and I wanted to make you aware of it before the job was posted. We're only hiring internal candidates and since I know the focus of your schooling was in that very area and I believe you'd make a good candidate. You've been a good therapist and your clients have nothing but high praise for you. I hope you will consider applying."

Tormund considered, drumming his fingers absently along the desk s smooth surface. "Yes, I think I might go for it. I appreciate the information, Doctor."

Mance nodded and stood up, one of his pants scrunching up to about mid-leg. Mance pushed it back down with his other foot. Tormund followed suit and stood but his pants decided, thankfully, to stay where they were. He sure wasn't going to spend any time outside of work with Mance, and he really had no clue why people followed him like they did, but he sure appreciated the heads up. The job sounded like the perfect fit.

His boss turned to leave and then spun around, stopping Tormund short. "Oh, and one other thing before I go. I know that Ms. Brienne Tarth who's a resident already in the department has also found out about the job. How she was clued in I have no idea. Probably her obtrusive little assistant Podrick told her about it, and more than likely he got the information from one of the nurses. I swear that boy has most of the nurses at the hospital firmly in his pocket. What his secret is I have no idea, but it can't be honorable."

Tormund nodded and walked around the decrepit hunk of wood he called a desk. He extended his hand toward his boss who considered it and finally took it, giving it two sharp shakes and releasing it. Reaching into his pocket, Mance removed a piece of soft white cloth and erased Tormund s contact from his hand.

"Be careful of Ms. Tarth," Mance warned. "She's shrewd, competitive, and will as soon cut you as kiss you. If she kisses at all."

Mance twisted his frame back to the door around and shuffled to it, Tormund on his heels to see him out. Mance reached down, pressed the lever down and opened it, the cylinders of the lock sliding against one another until it aligned in the open position. Mance pulled and groaned with effort as the door and frame detached from one another. When Mance pulled it open enough to get through he stopped just as he lifted one foot.

He mumbled something to someone Tormund couldn't see given Mance s girth and resumed his walking. As Mance passed the individual that had impeded his path, Tormund finally got a good look at them.

Tormund's mouth went slack and his pupils dilated at the sight of the woman, nothing but legs and the bluest eyes he had ever seen. His pulse quickened and his hands became clammy. He slid his hands along the seams of his pants to soak up the sweat. A sultry smile playing along her lips she extended a long hand. "Mr. Giantsbane I presume. I m Ms. Tarth, a pleasure to meet you. I understand we have something in common. I m here to talk to you about it. May I come in?"

Tormund knew right there and then he was in big, big trouble.