Crack your skull open [Closed]

[themightysamson]

Picking a place to do evaluations wasn't easy, but after some searching, he eventually found a nice spot. It was... some alien building in the city. He didn't know much about the culture, but he had to marvel at the architecture. Not only was it aesthetically pleasing, the furniture was comfortable, and the walls were virtually soundproof. It helped to provide a nice relaxing and secure atmosphere he needed to get people talking.

And speaking of, he sat back, waiting for his first few appointments of the day to arrive.

Comments

[morphitudinous]

Billy wasn't sure if he was lucky to be assigned an early appointment. If he wasn't fired, that would mean he could catch up on productivity by pulling a late shift that night. On the other hand, emotional residue could be a problem. He would just have to hope that the tides weren't too strong.

He waited outside the door for a few moments before entering---realistically he probably wouldn't retain his composure for the entire session, given the issues likely to surface, but a polite first impression was always nice.

"Good morning Dr. Samson," Billy greeted after knocking and entering, carefully closing the door behind him. He took his first few steps into the room and studied the environment, taking note of the furniture and his likely spot for the next however-long-the-session-was. "So this is the psychologist's lair."

[themightysamson]

"You make it sound so sinister," he joked, and motioned for Billy to have a seat.

"So how are you feeling this morning?"

[morphitudinous]

Billy shook his head. "Well, it's certainly not the sterile office I expected."

He sat upright on the chair, hands folded over a knee. "Similarly to how I feel every morning," Billy started slowly. "Considering the day's workload and analyzing how best to finish it. Excited, concerned about failure, but the routine works fairly well by now."

Add in a dose of fear evident in the small mannerisms and you'll be close to the surface of on-target.

[themightysamson]

"That's refreshingly honest," he admitted. But decided not to pick at that, for the moment.

"I imagine there must be a lot of pressure on you, being the head of Engineering."

[morphitudinous]

Of course, first on the list. Assessing if he's capable of holding the position. He could be honest about the pressure without losing his job, right?

"It's hard, as any job would be. I hear things from the older crew members regarding the generally low confidence they hold in the teenagers they meet. It was easier when Allen was partnered with me, of course, but I owe them my best effort. Hopefully they can count on me."

Billy wondered if that was too incriminating. He was in for quite a session if the self-doubt was already evident.

[themightysamson]

"You've been doing well so far. But that's still a huge responsibility for any one, particularly a young man like yourself. I'd imagine it doesn't leave you much time to relax."

[morphitudinous]

Billy sank back into the chair. No, it didn't. "I've been enjoying the baths I've just constructed, and I do enjoy recreation with my friends every week. It's just secondary to the lives we're working to save," he said. "Most of my day is spent in lab shifts of physical training. My friends drag me away from work when I've had enough."

Yup, the stress lines are all over his face. He's been mistaken for someone in his late twenties once or twice.

[themightysamson]

He considered that answer for a moment.

"Do you manage to carve out any time in your schedule for yourself?" Or was that a responsibility left to his friends?

[morphitudinous]

Billy had to think about that. He'd been better about making time before, but lately work had become an addiction. A reprieve from daunting thoughts and bad feelings.

"...not lately," he confessed. "I'm just not sure how much time away from work is acceptable."

[riseupnchargem.livejournal.com]

While Jamie could see the sense in mandatory psychiatric evaluations, he wasn't too happy about the fact that "mandatory" meant he had to get one too; like most people, he assumed that he was dealing with his life just fine and that mental health services were for everyone else. Well, all he had to do was convince the doctor that he was fine, and then he could get on with his life and the doctor could devote his energies to helping people who actually needed it.

Jamie had been thinking about his approach to this session ever since he'd resigned himself to its inevitability, and he continued to do so as he walked through the city to Samson's office. If I say A, he'll ask about B, or possibly C, and I should counter with D or E... It was an old, familiar, reassuring mindset - speculating on the particulars of a situation based on fragments of data. Planning a course of action. Strategizing. He was approaching the evaluation in much the same way he'd once done Zoid battles back home, trying to assess which sequence of actions would guarantee victory.

When he edged through the doorway, his demeanor was guarded, a little nervous - calculatedly so. Normal people didn't like therapists, right? Regardless of whether or not they had anything to hide, they were wary of anyone trying to get into their heads. Therefore Jamie, for whom victory in this confrontation depended upon appearing normal, would present himself accordingly and let some of his natural anxiety seep through instead of burying it completely. Step one in Operation: Avoid Talking About My Feelings.

"Doctor Samson?" he ventured. "I'm, uh. Here for my appointment."

[themightysamson]

"Mr. Hemeros, welcome." Well, at least the Doc was pleasant.

"Have a seat." Well, he could pick up on the nervousness easily enough. "Have you ever had a psychological evaluation before?"

[riseupnchargem.livejournal.com]

"No sir." Jamie obeyed Samson's suggestion, perching on the edge of a chair, hands clasped between his knees. "I'm...not really sure what to expect."

Which was partially true. He knew the doctor was going to ask him uncomfortable questions and had his suspicions as to what those questions were going to be about, he was just unclear on the details of how the evaluation was going to proceed.

[themightysamson]

"Well, the first thing you should know is that it's only a wrong answer if you're lying to me. Beyond that, there's no magical checklist that says 'this answer is normal' and 'this answer is not." He even flipped over his notes so that Jaime could see that... it was just a bunch of blank papers, with something loosely scribbled on one.

"And even if there was such a sheet, we're both one of the last people from our respective worlds, and we're on a giant ship made out of meat that speaks into your brain. If you were giving me 'normal' answers, I'd be worried that something was desperately wrong with you."

And he'll give you a second to think about that.

"All I need you to do is answer a few questions as honestly as possible, that's all. Okay?"

[riseupnchargem.livejournal.com]

And think about it Jamie did, brow furrowing slightly. He suspected that, depending on what Samson asked him, he might still be giving him a lot of "wrong" answers anyway.

His eyes flicked over the papers in Samson's hand, trying to discern the sole piece of writing on them, before returning his attention to the man himself. Cautiously, he bobbed his head in a nod. "Okay."

[themightysamson]

"Good." And while the Doc intends to address Fairplay at some point, he thought he'd start off with a bit of a softball.

"So, tell me, what do you do in your free time on the ship?"

[riseupnchargem.livejournal.com]

"I read," Jamie said with a light shrug. "Spend time with my Zoid - that's a kind of living robot we have, where I come from." Trying to explain Zoids originally had been to him what explaining a dog or a horse might have been to your standard Earth native, but he was accustomed to it by now.

"Other'n that, uh...I mostly just train with the squadron or do what they need me to in Engineering. I'm studying a couple other things on the side." Another shrug as he regarded Samson, trying to assess the man's reaction to his answers.

[themightysamson]

The boy was into a few activities, that was good. Though none of them seemed to be terribly social.

"What about hanging out with your friends? Do you get a chance to do that regularly?"

[livestoannoy]

Normally, Marco would be thrilled to meet Doc Samson. Hell, he'd normally be eager to go and gloat at Jake about it for a week.

However, the fact that the Doc was going to be giving him a goddamn psych eval made this whole thing considerably less fun. But not going wasn't an option - if he just didn't show up, he might as well stick a giant sign on his head saying 'Hi, I'm suspicious! Investigate me!'

So he was here, but he wasn't happy about it. And like usual, he took the route of joking around and pretending he didn't have any issues at all (despite the fact that he damn well knew that he did).

"So, do I get a couch? Can I look at some squiggles and tell you that they all look like sex?" he said with a grin after he walked in through the door. He didn't bother to look around other than a quick glance - he'd already scouted out the place yesterday in morph. No way did he want to go into this without at least checking out the building first.

[themightysamson]

Well, it wasn't as if there was anything in the office to be found. Nothing but furniture, and a list of appointments. If he was hoping for anything more juicy, he should remember that 97% of Samson's clients can level whole cities. Doc knows how to hide the important stuff from prying eyes.

"You can have a seat over there, to start with."

[livestoannoy]

Hey, as awesome as finding juicy stuff would have been, that wasn't the point. The point was to be prepared, and have as much knowledge as possible on-hand.

"Ah, so you're saving the squiqqles for later. Gotcha. But dude, I am so complaining about the lack of a couch. How am I supposed to properly talk about 'my childhood' if there isn't a couch?"

[themightysamson]

"I'm sure you'll manage. You don't seem to have any trouble talking so far," he noted.

"And seeing as how you mentioned your childhood," Come now, Marco, you gave him that opening, "why don't you tell me about it."

[livestoannoy]

"This is false advertising, man."

And sure, Marco could talk about how his mother (apparently) died when he was eleven, leaving him to look after his father when he completely fell apart and spend two years sitting on a couch staring numbly at the television screen. He could talk about how he then ended up having to fight a secret war against invading aliens who could be anyone and everyone, including his apparently not dead mother.

But sorry Samson - there's actually no way in hell Marco would ever actually say any of that. And hey, he still has eleven years of issue-free childhood to talk about - and since all of that stuff happened in his teens, technically he's not lying at all by completely avoiding it.

"Dude, seriously? That's your first question? And here I was beginning to think that you weren't a walking stereotype. But sure, if you really insist I can tell you about that one time when Dad accidentally stepped on my Lego fort. Crushing, that was. Especially since it took him a week to build it. He cried for days."

[themightysamson]

"Did he now?" He actually seemed interested in this story. Which may seem odd, but people give away a lot of information when they're trying to not talk about themselves. He motioned for Marco to elaborate on the story.

[livestoannoy]

"Yeah, I just said that, didn't I?" Marco said, rolling his eyes. Seriously, he wanted to hear about Lego? Lego?

But, Samson was right to assume that there was some major avoidance going on. Marco did not want to talk about his mother. Talking about his mother meant talking about how she 'died'. Talking about his mother meant talking about how she got infested, and that meant talking about Yeerks, and his part in the war.

Course, with the gigantic and bizarre mess of issues surrounding his mother and the war, Marco didn't actually realise that his father wasn't necessarily an 'issue-free' topic itself.

"What, you want me to go draw you a picture?"

[themightysamson]

"I do have crayons," he offered.

"Did you spend a lot of time with your father?"