"I see."
"For example, I'll submit a report. Izaya will say it's fine and let it go. But if Namie catches it she'll go on about how 'faulty' it is. And what does Izaya do? Guess what, it's 'Kida-kun, I must remind you that you must put more of an effort into it'. I cannot win! He'd run me over if it meant he got it on with Namie."
The therapist noticed that Kida was fairly quick in dropping '-san' and switching to given names.
"About their relationship, how would you describe it?"
"I used to think that my love life was messed up. Not anymore. Izaya keeps 'Namie time' on his schedule. Which means they'll be fooling around which means more work for me. Not that I get any overtime pay of course. I'm a slave, nothing but a slave."
The therapist sympathized but it was not his role to interfere in this and so he left Kida to his complaints and wondered just what Yagiri-san had planned for the next date.

Izaya was of course very much concerned about this too and spent quite some time wondering what to dress. Not that it mattered much since in the end he always picked similar clothes but it was a matter of principle. Before leaving his apartment for the date he checked his condoms. Izaya had a large collection of these of several types to be used according to the situation. He believed that it showed how caring a person he was to go to this extent, the therapist might have told him that it was simply Izaya striving to kick into gear his sex life.
After some hesitation he chose three condoms, one of each type: a flavored one, one with grooves and one extra thin. He carried these in a special case since Namie was adamant about how condoms got deformed if they were carried in pockets and the like. Izaya sighed and was mildly sad for a whole thirty seconds. And then he bounced away, picked up the robot cat and headed for the address Namie had given him.

"Namie...? This is..."
"It's about to start so we have to hurry."
Namie walked into the conference centre and Izaya and a rather surprised therapist followed.
"What is starting, exactly?"
"A conference on genetics. I figured if I brought you along I could get this date thing over with without even losing my time."
Izaya opened his mouth to protest, closed it again and shuffled after her. The therapist was even sorry for him until he remembered the 200 cameras. Namie had seats for the three of them right in the first row facing the podium and the wall where a PowerPoint presentation was being tested. Izaya's only solace was the large room was filled with very unattractive individuals but it was hardly enough to cheer him up.
"I'm sure this will be most interesting but I had in mind something more private if not necessarily romantic-"
"Shut up, it's starting."
And indeed it was. A grey man took the stage and began speaking in the most monotonous tone Izaya had ever heard in his life. Izaya could follow up to the abstract but soon enough the presentation became highly technical and thus he was lost at sea, his attention drifting. So he gave up on even pretending to be paying any attention and focused on looking at Namie. For once Namie was totally unaware that she was the object of Izaya's stare. She was too busy taking notes to even notice. Izaya sighed again, silently this time around. He gave the therapist a look full of misery and returned to studying Namie even it became all too aware that his chances of getting any action at all today were dwindling into nothingness.
Izaya wondered what he should do. He could of course endure this in the hopes of gaining some points in Namie's estimation but it was very likely she would not even realize he had even been there at all. Another option was to feign sickness and see if she would take care of him but he discarded this immediately. His only hope was that she had planned more after this conference. As he contemplated such things Izaya thought about how unfair it was that his feelings did not seem to be returned with the same intensity. To shake off such depressing thoughts he turned to texting the therapist.
[Doc, made any progress with the androphobia issue?]
The therapist blinked in surprise.
[It's not a priority]