Give me some advice

Oh boy, this guy really was a special kind of depraved, wasn't he? Inviting her into the bed of him and his mate, the thought made her skin crawl. Gods above and below, she prayed he was just saying these things to get a rise out of her! She knew a number of slaves during her incarceration that had been sold off for the purposes of pleasure and satisfaction to their owners, but she'd always kept a hope that maybe she could avoid such a fate. Maybe that hope had been too much to hold out for with Basilisk Fatalis... Marina's lips pulled tight into a fine line as she debated adding a third snarky comment to their conversation, but she never got a chance to. Basilisk pushed her chin away and sat back on his haunches, towering above her as he began to fiddle and play with her mentagion. Marina's eyes instantly locked to the pendant, following its every sway as he batted it around like a cat with a toy.

Then the fucker began to clean his grubby claws with it! Marina's eyes shrank to pinpoints, her ears flattening against her head. A quiver to her lips in a barely perceptible snarl as he toyed around with the most important thing in her world like it meant nothing! He was speaking again, but Marina was only half listening. A trigger, something had happened to this hypothetical patient. "Did her words make any sense in the moment, or were they nonsensical?" she asked, but her attention was fully on the pendant in his paws while she spoke. If he so much as chipped it... When he gave his answer, Marina spat out the first diagnosis she could think of just to sate him. "It sounds like a trauma response. She had a relapse into some traumatic event when triggered by a stressor." She flinched as his claws made a metallic raking sound against the pendant. "It's like a panic attack, but with a specific kind of trigger. An action, a phrase, something that brings the memory back. Now please stop doing that!"

"Marina"