Oh god, that broke the poor tattooed pastry chef's hart. He pulled the girl into his lap and wrapped his big, strong arms around her, rocking her gently. "Aw, Emmy...you aren't a freak...You're just...you're different. And if anyone's a freak, it's the doctors, ok? We'll find you a different one, since this one's not doing any good, ok? Maybe find someone that specializes in...um...this? Yeah?"
He stood up from his chair, keeping the smaller girl in his arms. "Come here and see what I made out of sugar." He said. He really didn't like talking about her...little...psychiatric disability. Mostly because he really had no idea of what to say that could possibly help her. He brought her over to the silicone mat and showed her the little kittens he had meticulously formed out of sugar. "They should be cool enough to eat now, if you want one..." He said, leaning back a little to stabilize Emio against his chest while he took one arm away from holding her to pry one of the little black cat sugar sculptures off the mat. He held it up to her, smiling. "Does it look like a cat to you?"