“Oh, it’s so nice to see you both,” Jerry beamed, before wincing. “Oh, Foxx, I’m so happy you are okay, but my goodness, you look exhausted. Let me not keep you. Tony told me he was expecting you and to send you right back.”
Foxx gave a genuine smile this time. “I’ll head in then.”
“Yes, yes, go go.” The man waved them on.
Harlow grunted and ushered him forward, past the door into the back.
Foxx eyed the room as he walked in. Most of the desks were empty, Charity’s included. It seemed pretty quiet for 4pm on a Friday.
As they were about to pass Charity’s desk, Harlow stopped. “He likely wants to talk to you alone. So, go ahead, go in.” The man sat down in their handler’s desk chair. “I’ll be here. Let me know when you’re ready to go.”
Foxx nodded with a yawn and shuffled his way to Tony’s office door, opening it without knocking.
Tony looked up and went to say something, but paused and then blurted, “What are you wearing?”
Foxx frowned in confusion and glanced down. “My sunsuit?”
“You’re…a bear.”
He blinked. “Yes…a purple one.”
Right. No one in the office had seen him in his sunsuits before. Jerry, the sweetheart that he was, hadn’t even blinked at what he’d been wearing. Hmm…Harlow also hadn’t complained. Which was interesting.
“Do you want me to come in or not?” Foxx asked, feeling tired, and having zero fucks to give towards anyone questioning what he was wearing. They were his clothes, not anyone else's; he wasn’t making anyone else wear it. If they had a problem, that was on them.
Tony rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before saying, “Ah, yes…come in. Close the door and take a seat. There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
Foxx walked in, closing the door behind him. He pulled out one of the chairs in front of Tony’s desk and sat down. “Is it about the last case?”
“Not exactly,” Tony hedged.
It was at that moment that his brain chose to remind him that Tony knew about Harlow and him having sex. “Oh…is it about…um…Harlow and I…umm.” Foxx’s face flushed.
“No!” Tony snapped and cleared his throat. “It’s not about ‘that’. It will never be about ‘that’. And we will all continue to pretend ‘that’ is not happening, understood?”
Foxx nodded. “Fair enough.”
“I called you here because you experienced what most would consider a trauma.”
Foxx wrinkled his nose. He was getting the feeling he wasn’t going to like where this was going. “And?”
“Any time a hunter is heavily injured, or in your case, comes close to dying, it is required that you speak with the Guild Psychologist, so we make sure that any lingering trauma is resolved.”
Foxx would laugh at the idea if he could, but honestly, it would hurt too much, so he just bluntly said, “No.”
“Foxx, I understand you are at an age where such an idea may seem ridiculous. But it’s our policy.”
“Bullshit.”
Tony crossed his arms. “Be that as it may, you are going.”
Foxx scoffed, crossing his own arms, wincing a bit as he did. “I won’t.”
He was not letting some damn human try to poke around inside his head.
Tony grinned. “You will. And you have, I’d say, five weeks to get your ass there.”
“I’m not going to see some pompous human doctor who can’t help, and no doubt doesn’t want to.”
