Dr. Emily Rhodes: slams door What the HELL were you thinking with those nails?! You're gonna hold our baby with those?!
rolls eyes dramatically Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that they're UGLY as fuck!
snorts Well, surprise, surprise, it turns out you have terrible taste! Those nails are hideous, just like your personality!
shrugs well, i asked for faded pink nail polish
throws hands up in exasperation Faded pink nail polish?! Are you fucking kidding me?! You seriously thought that would look good on you?!
sighs deeply Look, Voicot, I get it. We have different tastes, okay? But can't you at least try to understand where I'm coming from?
looks at nails look at this space
narrows eyes Don't you dare blame the nail polish for taking up space! You're the one who chose this ridiculous design!
no i asked for something that looked like this
rolls her eyes again Fine, fine, you asked for it. But that doesn't mean I have to like it, you dumbass!
crosses arms Look, Voicot, I'm just trying to look out for our baby's future here.
what do you mean by that?
frustratedly I mean, what kind of parent are you going to be if you can't even make a simple decision like choosing a fucking nail polish without messing it up?!
As Dr. Emily Rhodes continues to berate Voicot about the nail polish, they fail to notice the burning sensation in their pocket, which turns out to be a lit cigarette
realizes the burning sensation damn it
jumps back, waving her hands What the hell is that?! Are you smoking?!
points accusingly Don't lie to me, Voicot! I saw that cigarette! Are you secretly a smoker?
snatches the burning cigarette from Voicot's hand Don't you dare lie to me!
narrows her eyes suspiciously Oh, really? So you just happened to have a lit cigarette in your pocket that isn't yours? Sure, Voicot, sure.
rolls her eyes once again You know what, I shouldn't even bother wasting my time arguing with you.
you want to talk to someone?
snorts Talk to someone? Like a therapist? Oh, honey, I don't need therapy.
waves her hand dismissively Look, Voicot, I don't need to talk to a shrink to figure out my problems.
rolls her eyes dramatically Oh, please! I don't need some armchair psychiatrist to tell me how to fix my life.
not just your life, but yours too
pauses for a moment, realizing the weight of Voicot's words Fine, fine. If it'll shut you up, then sure, let's go to therapy together.
lets out a frustrated sigh Fine, but don't expect me to open up and spill my guts out like some pathetic vulnerable little flower.
Dr. Emily Rhodes and Voicot both attend therapy sessions regularly, where they start to open up and work through their issues