The door closed behind Bill, and Eve found herself alone in the beige consultation room with Oksana Astankova standing opposite her, staring intently at the ground and rubbing one prison-issue black boot against the other.

"Oksana," Eve said gently, "Have a seat." She gestured at the seat opposite her own.

Oksana's eyes darted fearfully up at Eve and then she nodded jerkily and edged towards the chair before sitting down. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, her hands still hidden in her sleeves. She didn't look at Eve, instead her eyes were fixed in a blank stare on the plastic plant between them.

Eve watched her quietly and then cleared her throat.

"So, as Mr Pargrave said, I am Dr Polastri and I would like it if we could spend a bit of time getting to know each other today. Does that sound OK?" Eve asked, keeping the volume of her voice low and even.

Oksana shrugged and pulled one of her hands up above her knees to examine her sleeve.

Internally, Eve sighed. Evidently this one was going to take a while to break into. On the outside, Eve merely smiled and nodded, keeping her posture open and relaxed.

"Great. If you don't mind, I would like to record what we say here today in case I need to refresh my memory at any point. Is that alright with you?" Eve asked.

She was going to record their sessions either way, but asking a direct yes or no question seemed the only way that she might get this woman to speak.

"Oui." Oksana said, barely audible.

Now, that took Eve by surprise. She hid her surprise though, and merely leaned forward to switch on her Dictaphone.

"You speak French?" Eve asked nonchalantly.

Oksana nodded.

"From your name I assumed you had Russian heritage." Eve mused, keeping her eyes on the woman opposite.

"Mon père est Russe." Came the timid response.

"Is that so?" Eve replied, "And your mother? Is she Russian also? Or is she French perhaps?"

"Ma mère est née à Paris. Elle était ballerine." Oksana said just above a whisper.

Eve listened intently. She had studied French at school and had even travelled in France for several months one summer after university. It had been a while, but she could understand these basic statements.

"She was a ballerina? What is she now?" Eve enquired softly.

"Morte. Elle est morte quand j'étais jeune." Oksana replied, her eyes focusing once more on the cuff of her sweatshirt that she twisted between her fingers.

Eve nodded thoughtfully and then took a calculated risk.

"Bullshit." Eve said decisively.

Finally, Eve found herself looking into the eyes of Oksana Astankova. They were an unusual colour, a kind of golden green in this light, though Eve suspected in other lights they may be closer to hazel. They were wide set and almost catlike. Where Eve had thought she may find the flat, lifeless, quality that she had seen in Oksana's initial mug shot, she found a spark of something else, something she couldn't quite identify. There was intelligence there for sure, and a quiet anger, a hint of curiosity and… something else.

"Your vocabulary is limited yet accurate," Eve explained, "But your pronunciation is off."

"It is not." Oksana rebuked loudly in her regular English accent.

In the space of one word from Eve, Oksana's body language had shifted entirely. The other woman was no longer folding herself inwards. Her shoulders had been pushed back defiantly and her face was aimed directly at Eve, her gaze cold and steely.

"I'm afraid it is." Eve confirmed. "If I had to guess, I would say you are somebody who is frequently restless, who needs to occupy her mind. You're intelligent and you like learning, so in the eight years you have been here, you have taught yourself French from language books in the library."

Oksana's eyes narrowed as she fixed Eve with an even darker glare.

"However, books alone can't always teach accurate pronunciation." Eve concluded. "So your accent gave you away."

Eve leant back in her chair and met Oksana's glare unflinchingly.

"Was I close?" Eve prompted.

Oksana let her boots drop from the chair and onto the ground with a couple of loud thuds that Eve supposed were meant to sound threatening. There was a flash of pain across her expression as she moved her body, but it was quickly hidden. She didn't cross her legs now, didn't mirror Eve's position, but merely left her feet a shoulder width apart, taking up as much space in the chair as she could.

"Where is the other woman? That fat one that usually sees me here?" Oksana demanded.

"Rebecca is pregnant. Not fat." Eve replied with a polite smile, "And she is on maternity leave."

"Somebody fucked her?" Oksana laughed in disbelief, "I bet she cried after that too."

This character, this rude and abrasive individual who apparently thrived on trying to evoke a response was what Eve had been expecting. This was the tricky customer she had been promised.

"Is she your friend?" Oksana asked, "That fat woman?"

"She is my colleague." Eve replied. Oksana didn't need to know that Eve though Rebecca was as good as useless.

"She is shit at her job." Oksana said conversationally, "Do you cry when you work as well?"

"I can honestly say that I have never cried in an appointment." Eve said truthfully. "Do you enjoy seeing people cry, Oksana?" she asked.

"I enjoyed seeing that woman cry. But it was too easy. Are you going to be more fun for me?" Oksana asked with a flash of a smile that showed her remarkably white teeth. She was attempting to intimidate, to gain the control of a situation in which she felt vulnerable.

"I'm not here to be fun for you." Eve pointed out.

"No, you're here to decide if I am a psychopath or not." Oksana countered.

"That would be an inaccurate description of my role in this room." Eve replied authoritatively.

There was flicker of uncertainty across Oksana's face when she heard that. Eve could tell she wanted to demand an accurate description of Eve's role then, but something was stopping her. Perhaps she didn't want to seem too interested in her own fate here, perhaps it was dangerous for her to allow herself a glimmer of hope, or perhaps she merely didn't want to admit she was wrong about Eve's purpose. The room fell into silence. Oksana studied her nails disinterestedly for a moment and then brought her thumb up to her mouth and chewed defiantly on the skin next to the nail there.

Eve leaned forward and retrieved her notebook from the table. She opened it to a blank page and pretended to read the imaginary notes that were not written there. It was a tactic she had used before, it was a good way to relieve pressure from a client and make them feel as though Eve was not staring at them, not analysing every move they made. It was a particularly helpful manoeuvre with sensitive clients such as this one.

"You're American." Oksana pointed out loudly, fixing Eve with a stare once more.

"By birth, yes." Eve nodded, glancing up briefly and then returning to her non-existent notes. She didn't add any follow up information to Oksana's question.

Eve wasn't fond of giving away personal details to the people she worked with, for obvious reasons. But her accent was a bit of a giveaway in that regard, so she let Oksana have that one. It might come in handy to have leverage.

"What is your name?" Oksana asked not even a minute later.

"Dr Polastri." Eve replied, not lifting her eyes from her notebook.

"I know that," Oksana snapped angrily, "You told me that. I mean what is your first name?"

"I don't think you need to know my first name." Eve replied evenly, not reacting to the change in Oksana's tone. "Why is it that you think you need to know it?"

"You know mine." Oksana replied instantly. "Why shouldn't I call you by your name?"

"Do you call Mr Pargrave by his first name?" Eve enquired.

The room went quiet once more, and Eve gave herself an internal pat on the back. One point to Dr Polastri.

"You can't call me Oksana then." Oksana said after a moment. She sounded like a petulant teenager, though Eve did at least know her age for a fact. A teenager, she was not. A slight case of arrested development perhaps? Oksana had spent the majority of her teenaged years institutionalised after all. Or perhaps she was just a petty person, lashing out because she didn't like the position she found herself in.

The way Oksana said her own name interested Eve. There had been a couple of words that Oksana had said during the course of their tense conversation that Eve thought had a distinctly un-English twang to them. The ghost of an accent that lingered at the edges, rusted on over time and now immoveable. And she had a strange way of speaking very properly, without shortening her words – 'did not' instead of 'didn't' and so on. But the way she said 'Oksana' was undeniably Russian. Perhaps that titbit about her father was true after all. Perhaps the Russian name was not just a family heirloom or a throwback to an earlier generation.

"You would like me to call you Astankova?" Eve asked.

"If I have to call you Dr Polastri." Oksana replied with a shrug, imitating Eve's voice when she said her name.

"That seems fair." Eve agreed. Because, well, it did.

"You are married." Oksana said immediately.

Eve glanced at the wedding band on her finger. Another bit of personal information that she inadvertently gave out for free.

"You seem to be under the impression that we are here to talk about me." Eve replied.

"Are you married to a man?" Oksana asked, ignoring Eve's observation.

That was Oksana's most surprising question so far, and perhaps it was rather telling too. It certainly gave Eve food for thought.

"We are here to talk about you, not me." Eve tried again.

"You said, 'We're going to spend a bit of time getting to know each other today'." Oksana said, putting on a simpering voice that supposedly was meant to mock Eve's earlier approach with Oksana's mild mouse of a character.

And that was a point to Oksana, Eve admitted to herself. She shouldn't have been so hasty to believe Oksana's little act when she first arrived in the room.

"I am just trying to get to know you, Dr Polastri," Oksana cut into Eve's thoughts, her voice velvet-y and dangerous now. Her eyes were fixed on Eve almost predatorily and Eve struggled to hide the shiver than ran through her. That was unusual.

"Are you married to a man?" Oksana asked again, still refusing to move her eye line from Eve.

Eve broke the eye contact. She couldn't help it. Her gaze flicked needlessly to the wall behind Oksana and then back to the other woman once more.

"Do you have a problem with men, Astankova?" Eve asked instead of answering the question.

Oksana let out a harsh laugh that almost made Eve jump in surprise.

"You have read my file, have you?" Oksana asked with a sneer, "That would be a nice tidy way to wrap it up, wouldn't it? To assume that I did what I did because I have a problem with men." It was the most Oksana had said in one go so far and Eve could see she was becoming agitated.

"I imagine it would be safe to say you had a problem with that particular man." Eve said, keeping her tone conversational.

"And therefore I have a problem with all men?" Oksana demanded, "That's a bit fucking basic, isn't it Dr?" She asked with a laugh and a shake of her head before, continuing, "You're no better than the last one, are you? You're just not as fat."

Eve did not react. She knew the goal was to make her react.

"He was your father, correct?" Eve asked.

The minute the words were out of her mouth she knew she had taken a pretty big risk. The man had decidedly not been Oksana's father. Eve knew that. She knew it. But she needed to test a theory.

"My father is nothing like that piece of shit." Oksana seethed, leaning forward towards Eve and showing her clenched teeth. There was a wild look in Oksana's eyes now, a fury that had smouldered for years, sparking into life at the hint of a breeze.

"Your step-father. My mistake." Eve amended lightly.

Her risk had paid off. The father was certainly a revered character. Perhaps not one to be explored any further in this particular appointment, but certainly something to poke at again in the future.

"You are as incompetent as the last one." Oksana said bitingly. "I hope someone gets you fucking pregnant so I don't have to see you anymore either."

"Everybody makes mistakes." Eve replied, "Surely you have made mistakes."

"No." Oksana said resolutely.

"I don't believe that." Eve said.

"I couldn't give a fuck what you believe." Oksana said, leaning back in her chair and biting the skin next to her thumb nail once more. She averted her gaze from Eve and instead studied the beige wall to her left.

Eve took the moment to examine the woman before her whilst she was studiously not looking at Eve. Her frame was larger than Eve's. It hadn't been so noticeable when Oksana first arrived in the room, what with her hunched shoulders and awkward shuffling. She had made herself small, but in reality, she must be more than little taller than Eve. Her hair was honey blonde and hanging limply, loosely, about her shoulders but still revealing her defined jawline. She had full lips that were currently pulled back slightly as she did yet more damage to her thumb. And whilst it could not be confirmed beneath the veil of baggy prison-wear, the way she held herself suggested to Eve that she was both strong and slim. Her eyes though, they remained the most captivating thing about her. There was such a lot going on within them, and when she had cast that daring stare at Eve…

"I'm married to a man." Eve offered up simply, surprising even herself by doing so.

Eve watched as Oksana's glinting teeth momentarily halted their work on her thumb, but those eyes didn't turn on Eve, and Oksana gave no other indication that she had heard what Eve said.

There was a knock on the door and barely a pause before it opened and Bill's head appeared around it before he stepped into the room.

"Everybody OK?" He asked with an uncertain smile, "No bruising or blood loss?" He was addressing both occupants of the room but his eye line was on Eve, his brows raised in silent question.

"All fine," Eve confirmed with a nod and a tight smile.

She found herself oddly relieved to see Bill. His appearance marked the end of this initial appointment. It hadn't gone brilliantly well, but it could have been worse. After all, there really wasn't any bruising or blood loss. Eve reached up to pull her hair free of its tie. Normally she would wait until she left the room to do this, but she could feel the tension creeping into her scalp already. As she ran her fingers through the wild curls in attempt to assert some kind of order over them, Eve became aware of a certain set of eyes appraising her.

"Did you behave yourself?" Bill asked teasingly, now looking at Oksana.

"I'm not a fucking child." Oksana spat, immediately averting her attention from Eve and standing from the chair abruptly to make her way to the door.

"I'll take that as a no then." Bill muttered, casting an apologetic look at Eve before crossing back to the door to let Oksana out.

Eve raised a hand to Bill, brushing off his concern.

"See you next week." Eve said lightly to Oksana as she disappeared from the room. She expected no reply and she got exactly that.

Bill rolled his eyes at Eve before following Oksana hastily into the corridor.

This had hardly been the most traumatic appointment Eve had been through during her years in this profession. In fact, Oksana Astankova was every bit the interesting character Eve had hoped she would be. Equal parts playful and testing. It was clear she was going to push Eve, and Eve had every intention of pushing back just as hard.

Bill pulled the consultation room door closed behind him and turned to find that Oksana had already stalked halfway down the corridor away from him.

"Hold your horses." Bill called.

Oksana ground to a halt but did not turn.

"Was it that bad?" Bill asked with a chuckle.

"She is a dick." Oksana huffed.

"Hey!" Bill exclaimed, "Dr Polastri is certainly not a dick." He defended. "I have known her a long time, she's a good woman and she's very good at her job. You should be pleased she was assigned to you."

"Oh yeah? Should I?" Oksana said in faux excitement and then returned her voice to its usual tone, "She is a dick. I want to go back to my cell now."

"You have to get your bandage changed first." Bill pointed out.

"It is fine!" Oksana exclaimed, "I don't need that sweaty little pervert pawing at my tits."

Bill sighed.

"You know, your life would be so much easier if you just cooperated." Bill said tiredly.

"You mean your life would be easier. My life looks like this whether I cooperate or not." Oksana said grumpily.

"You're still getting your bandages changed." Bill said, not rising to Oksana's bait.

"You trust me not to hurt that little medic?" She asked sweetly, "You don't think I might swipe one of his scalpels and slice his flaccid knob off? That is my speciality, you know." Her eyes flashed excitedly and Bill didn't want to guess whether that excitement was fabricated or not.

He eyed the ceiling despairingly.

"Eve must have really pushed your buttons." Bill muttered to himself under his breath.

"What?" Oksana barked, no longer playful. "What did you say to me?"

"I didn't say anything to you. I was talking to myself." Bill replied.

"Oh? Maybe you're the crazy one then. Maybe you should go and talk to the woman with the hair." Oksana suggested with a smirk.

"I'll be speaking to her, don't you worry." Bill said quietly. "And so will you," he added a bit louder, "Every week for the next five months, so I suggest you try to find a way to get along."