There were two numbers saved in Flynn's phone. He kept a little black book with the list of women he called when he felt like company. But he didn't like them being in his phone. Even that was more commitment than he wanted to make. They'd often playfully add themselves, and he'd laugh, but delete them once they wandered home.

There were only two survivors. There was Rapunzel, who'd taken his phone again at the bar the next day and snapped a photo of herself with a huge grin of excitement, so that whenever she texted him he got a flash of her looking overjoyed. And she texted him a lot.

Flynn, I saw five squirrels today and one of them had spots!

The other number was his parole officer, and that was the one he was currently ringing.

The captain picked up immediately. "Fitzherbert? Why are you calling me? It's Thursday. It's 11am. You should be on your way to therapy."

"Yeah..." Flynn said, pulling on his shoes. "See, that's why I'm calling you."

"Playing hooky, are you? I'll have to report this to the parole board. Your predicament is very precarious, might I remind you?"

Flynn rubbed the back of his neck, already tired of this conversation. "Not hooky, exactly. I've had a bit of a... change of heart? Shall we say? Look, chief, I was hoping I could switch therapists."

The captain snorted. "Never could see anything through, could you? Always looking for the easy path. Never willing to put the work in. No. Absolutely not. Jones is hard on you, as she should be."

"She's not hard on me," Flynn cut in. "Maybe that's the problem. I don't know. But honestly this has been a colossal waste of my time. And her time. And your time. We are just not operating on the same wave length. I think I might have better luck with someone else."

"Dr. Jones is a very prestigious psychiatrist. She's published more books than you've read in your entire life. She's the best."

"You know, I'm sure she's great. For some people." Rapunzel seemed fond of her, actually. From what little Flynn could make out of their conversations, Jones was helping Rapunzel quite a bit. "But the shoe doesn't fit everyone, right?"

"You're just too short-sighted..."

"No, look," Flynn sighed. "You can pick the new therapist. You can send me to the biggest hard-ass you know. I don't care. I just want to try something different."

The captain was silent for a few moments. "Why this 'change of heart' now?" he spat skeptically.

And this was the part he didn't know he could say. Flynn thought it was the truth, but it sounded fake even in his head. Thinking it felt fake. Even if it might have been the first authentic thought he'd had in quite some time.

"I..." Flynn cleared his throat. The words wouldn't come out of his mouth. They'd barely even form in his head. He couldn't think of a sarcastic way to say it, either. It was like he was choking. He tried clearing his throat again.

"Rider, I don't have time for you to yank my chain."

Well, there's this girl...

Flynn coughed. "I clearly have shit to deal with, that's all. I could use some...uh... help with that. Jones and I aren't getting anywhere. I think it would be good to try other avenues."

More silence. "Are you sassing me? Is that sincerity I detect from you?"

"Well, it's not sass. My sass is a bit sassier than that."

A grunt, and a long pause. "I'll pull some strings and get you in with someone else today. This is not going to be some way for you to get out of therapy this week. I'll text you the time and address. If you don't show up, there'll be consequences."

That was how Flynn ended up at a new office downtown. It was cool, and a little dimly lit. He sat across from his new shrink in a matching arm chair, like they were going to smoke cigars and talk about politics. The new guy was in his early thirties, maybe. He sat casually, and he had glasses but he just kind of left them where they were on his face, none of that constant pushing them up his on nose business.

"Walter called me," he said with a wry smile. "I don't usually take new clients on such short notice."

And Flynn didn't usually hear the captain's first name. Fodder for mocking. "Well, thanks, Dr...?"

"Just Tom's fine. And you prefer Flynn?"

"Yeah."

Tom didn't even have a pad or a pen. Flynn was already skeptical of this guy's credentials.

"Well, Flynn," Tom said. "What brings you here?" Tom was watching him neutrally, and waited a long time for Flynn to answer.

"I was released from prison about three months ago. Part of my parole is that I have to have therapy."

Tom nodded. "Alright. Want me to write a letter on your behalf then?"

"Huh?"

"If you just need routine therapy, I can easily sign off on your sanity."

Flynn raised an eyebrow. "Don't you have to evaluate me first, or something?"

"If you want."

"Does it matter what I want?"

Tom shrugged. "Look, I've worked with a lot of Walter's parolees. Therapy isn't something you can really do for someone else, even the state, even if your freedom depends on it. If the only reason you're here is to go through the motions, let's just save us both the grief and push you through. If you have stuff you want to work on, that's another story."

Flynn blinked. "Well... I mean, therapy's really expensive, right? And the state's paying for it. What do you charge?"

"250 crowns an hour."

"Yeesh. Not the first time I've thought I should be a shrink."

"I'm not complaining. You're right, you're getting a pretty good deal right now."

Flynn shrugged. "I like free stuff. Might as well stick it out."

Tom shook his head with a smile. "Nice try. But no. I'm busy. I have a lot of clients and a lot more on the waiting list. I'm not going to shoot the breeze with you for an hour a week so you can feel like a bargain hunter. Convince me you have something interesting to say."

Flynn forced his face into a look of cocky boredom, when he wanted to balk. "Haven't you read my file?"

"No."

Flynn squinted. "Why not?"

Tom's poker face was good, too. Maybe better than Flynn's. "Is there anything in there you can't tell me yourself?"

"I'm an ex-con," Flynn said. "Wouldn't you think I was lying?"

"What would be the point? Lying to your shrink? I can't help you if you do that. And if you're just trying to get through this, I already said, I'll sign off for you right now."

Flynn stared.

Tom looked at his watch. "I'm bored, Flynn. Tell me something about yourself. If you lie, I'll know. Tell me something real and interesting."

Flynn sat up a little straighter. "I... uh..." he immediately latched onto the most interesting thing in his life lately, and he started talking before he had a chance to think, before he had a chance to wonder where it even came from. "I think I'm kind of falling for this completely batshit girl who is way too young and broken for me, but I can't help it." Flynn's lip curled and he looked at his hands as if he'd see his own face there, as if they'd have some explanation for what he just said.

Tom grinned. "Ha! You seem to have surprised yourself there. Nice. I'm interested. Go on."

Flynn felt simultaneously validated - because he'd never lose a contest, and he'd certainly never be called bored - and exposed. Falling? Where did that come from? What did that even mean? He stuttered. "I... she... you know, this isn't really something I talk about."

"But it's the first thing that popped into your head. She must be on your mind a lot."

"...yeah. You could say that."

"What's she like?"

"She's... well, she's way too young for me, to start, like I said -"

Tom held up a hand. "Is she legal?"

"Uh-huh."

"Alright, then let's leave morality out of this. Talking about shoulds is not helpful right now. Just tell me how things are."

Flynn picked at the arm of the chair, trying to think of how to describe Rapunzel without coloring her with the guilt he associated with her, or how inaccessible she felt to him. "She's... very bright. She seems slow sometimes, but that's only because she was really abused as a kid. I guess she grew up living with this crazy woman who wouldn't ever let her out of the house - ever let her out of the house. So she didn't go to school or have any friends or anything like that. Everything in the entire world is novel to her. She can come off as a little... silly. But she's actually really smart. She learns so quickly, and she notices the tiniest details. Her brain works so fast... she loves puzzles and riddles and things like that. She's a lot smarter than I am."

"Intelligence appeals to you?"

Flynn shrugged. "I just haven't spent a lot of time with smart people before, really. It's different to be around her. She never bores me. She's very entertaining."

"You guys spend a lot of time together?"

Flynn nodded. "I work at a bar, and she comes by every night I work at the start of my shift and stays until the end. We talk a lot. She's really easy to talk to."

"What do you talk about?"

"Lots of stuff. Anything, really. She asks a lot of questions, she's very curious. She likes stories, she likes to hear about my life. Sometimes she'll tell me about her life but not too often, she'd usually rather tell me about things she has read or things she'd like to do."

"How long have you guys been friends?"

Flynn smirked at the seemingly innocuous question. "Well, we've known each other for about a month and a half now, but I don't know how long I'd say we've been 'friends.'"

"You don't like that word?"

"It's kind of a strong word."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Friend is a strong word?"

"For me, yes."

"Why's that?"

"It implies reliability, right? Like I have to be responsible for someone else. Like I have to answer to someone else. It's a restriction. People expect stuff from their friends. People need things from their friends." It was weird to spell it out like that. It was how he felt, it was what he thought, it was clear as day said like that, but it wasn't something he'd articulated before.

"And you don't want to be responsible for this girl? You don't want her to rely on you or need anything from you?"

"No, I don't!"

Tom made a really, really annoying buzzer noise. Like he was on a terrible game show. "Try again. Take your time to think first, if you have to. But no lying."

"I'm not lying."

"Don't make me make that noise again, I hate that noise."

Flynn glared, breathing slowly. He didn't like that noise either. "How do you know if I'm lying? I've barely said a thing yet."

"Body language? Expression? Common sense? Listen to yourself when you talk about her. "

Flynn frowned, feeling very vulnerable indeed. Did he sound like a puppy? Did he seem pitiable? "Is it that bad?"

"No morality today, remember? It just is. You want this girl, don't you?"

He was choking again, on an enormous block of whiny angst. "I..."

"Spit it out."

"Yes."

"She already relies on you, it sounds like. She already needs things from you. Does that really bother you?"

Yes! Yes! It was terrible! It was terrible that she called him and asked for help. It was terrible that she needed his affection. It was terrible that she looked for his reassurance and guidance in conversation. It was terrible.

It wasn't terrible at all. Nothing about it was terrible. It was good. It was so good.

The air in the room was thinner, maybe. He was choking again.

"So when we're talking about reliability," Tom said. "Is it really that you don't want her to rely on you? Or..."

"What do you want?" Flynn snapped. "You want me to say that I don't want to need some crazy eighteen year old nut case? That I don't want to lean on her? That I don't want to be tied to her in some way? Who would want those things? Why should I trust her? Why should I need her? I'm Flynn fucking Rider. Who the hell is she?"

Tom leaned back in his chair, taking a breath. "You're Flynn Fucking Rider, eh?"

Flynn nodded, stiffly.

Tom was silent.

Flynn said, "You didn't make the buzzer sound."

Tom smirked. "Should I have?"