<div class="floatright">(http://media.new.mensxp.com/media/photogallery/2014/May/nataliavodianova13_1401450978.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Persephone Fowl<br/><strong>Sortment:</strong>Counselor<br/><strong>Mood:</strong>Exhausted<br/><strong>Date &amp; Time:</strong>Fall Term/ 1 pm<br/><strong>Tag:</strong>Rabbit<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Lawn area<br/><strong>Other:</strong>Is known by most of the students as they have been sent to her for orientation therapy. No one knows of her relationship with The Rabbit. Also has a thick Irish accent, hover over phrases/words if unsure what she is saying.<br/><hr/><br/>Dead tired. That was the phrasing one might use when describing Seph's current state. Every single one of her patients, today, were dull as kindergarten scissors and just as useless. There were many times where Seph wondered why she'd taken up this particular position at Jamison. Basically, it had her stuck with a bunch of whiny, entitled assholes crying to her about how their families fucked them over, blah blah blah. Day in and day out it was the same sob story. She'd hold a sympathetic smile, nod, scribble "notes" down, and give them some bullshit Chicken Soup for the Tarnished Soul advice and then on to the next. Now, don't get her wrong. There were a<em>few</em>cases that piqued her interest. Shane Harris, for instance. She was a fun little puzzle. Cocky, and entertaining, the girl never held back during their sessions and Seph had to sit back and appreciate her raw, brutal honesty. It was in her sessions with Shane that she realized she could one Hell of a foothold in this school.<br/><br/>Back to the point... Seph had finally been released from her final appointment of the day and all she could dream of was a nice, long, hot bubble bath and maybe a bottle of Whiskey. But first, she needed to meet up with an associate. Not that she minded his company. In truth, it was the better part of her days. A real like-minded individual to have intellectual conversation with yet real enough to know how the world truly worked. Not this painted dream the founders of Jamison seemed to believe could be made but the real gritty disgusting twisted world that took every advantage it could to fuck you over. Sans lube.<br/><br/>Her ice blue eyes swept the lawns until she spied the toe-headed young man conversing with a woman in way too much black. Jesus, girl, try for some color. And<em>not</em>the crimson blood of infants. Tying the belt of her soft beige cardigan tightly around her waist, she sauntered her charcoal pencil skirt and retro-framed eyeglasses over towards the pair.<br/><br/><strong>"Excuse me,"</strong>she said, positioning herself  between them. Having the other girl here was not ideal. She'd have to think of an excuse to pry him away from her so they could conduct some business. Filing through a manilla folder in her hand she kept her eyes down, purposefully not looking at either one.<strong>"Oi believe ye missed yer appointment, young man. Yer were supposed ter come by me office <acronym title="around">raun</acronym> noon."</strong>Closing the folder, she glanced at the girl and gave a dispassionate<strong>"'ello," before turning a stern look to Helios. <strong>"<acronym title="Now">Nigh</acronym>, that 'ad ter be a mistake. Thar's no way ye would miss a mandatory session wi' me... not whaen yer other <acronym title="options">opshuns</acronym> are so unsavory."</strong></strong>