trans_9 | Psych Evals, Round 2 [Timed Post-plot/Closed]

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Psych Evals, Round 2 [Timed Post-plot/Closed]

This crew was certainly proving to be a fascinating one. And given their recent mission and said revelations, there would probably be a lot on their minds. On his as well, but right now his job was to pick the brains of the rest of the crew.

Speaking of which, his next appointment was arriving at his office now.

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The psych eval - which Eva has not been looking forward to and not really been anticipating passing - is clearly the cherry on top of this absolute sundae of a week. She even managed to work up some shrieking nightmares and scalp-clawing last night in preparation. Lucky her.

Her goal is to protect the Animorphs, at least. She has plenty of shiny traumatic events and issues to dangle in front of Samson, and she hopes that they'll be enough to keep him off the subject of her son.

Probably wouldn't hurt to talk about that whole torture thing to someone anyway.

She arrives at his office perfectly made-up but looking tired. Her hair's down to hide the fresh scratches on her forehead. She's unaware how much she's going to prove her family resemblance to Marco with her first comment: "What, no couch? What kind of shrink doesn't use a couch?"

Dean wished all missions could have been like the last one. As nerve wracking as the judgement part was, the rest of it with Kaylee was awesome. And no Ohm crashing the party which already made it better than shore leave on Zokez II.

So he was in a good mood until he got back on board, and realized all the crap waiting for him. Including this damn appointment.

As it was, his expression was neutral and guarded, already not liking the scurtiny he's going to be under.

"What's up, Doc?" Yeah he bet the guy's heard it a million times but who cares? Dean was after all a smartass too.

What? She's nothing like Marco.

"Next time I get grabbed by an alien ship, I'll make sure they bring my couch along for the ride." He indicated where she should have a seat. "Though, if I did have a couch, you look like you'd probably spend this session napping on it.

"Have a late night?"

Honestly? By now he's heard it so many times that he forgets that its actually a Bugs Bunny reference.

"Mr. Winchester," he greeted Dean. "Please, have a seat."

Dean didn't ask about the lack of couch. He knew enough about the type, mostly via cases. His eyes did scan the surroundings. Pretty low key.

He sat down and leaned back in his seat with his hands on his knees.

"So how we doing this, number 2 pencils, I tell you how many butterflies in the picture or supposed to point out on the doll where the bad man touched me?"

Yeah total smartass, especially when he's tense.

"Nothing a little catnap won't fix," she says, sitting down and self-consciously opening her eyes up a bit wider, trying to look a little more alert. "So, I've never done this sort of thing before. Are you just going to let me ramble and Freudian slip myself into trouble, or are you going to ask questions and keep me on the defense?"

"I'd prefer to just have a conversation. It leaves me with the least amount of paperwork at the end."

"I'm not looking for a reason to lock you in an asylum," he pointed out. "I'm mostly here to get an idea for who you are, and how you're dealing with the current general situation."

"I never said you were." Whoops, probably better not to sound too paranoid. She smiles to try and offset it. "Given the whole 'your world has been destroyed, come join a group of not-always-lovable misfits and save the universes from Big Bad Aliens' premise, I'm actually doing well. Probably spending a bit too much time in the media library, but I like literature."

Uh-huh, right. But it's never just a conversation. Still Dean can just observe him right back, and try to analyze him in turn.

"Ok, so what, expect me to pick the topic? Current events? Because kind of lacking in sports around here."

Careful, Eva. Keep this up and Doc might have to wonder if the paranoia is genetic.

"That's good. Have you still found time to socialize a bit?"

"Let's start with current events, as they relate to you." A beat. "I hear you got married recently. Congratulations."

"I've amassed quite the collection of doting teenagers, if that answers your question. I'm guessing they're looking for surrogate mothers to tell them to brush their teeth and not to go riding in cars with boys."

Dean shrugged, "Thanks. But those don't count much. Not like the real one with the rings, the vows, the dressing up, party and crap. This was just a light show with some chanting."

Though he did want to do the real thing with Kaylee someday. He was sure of that now. Or pretty sure.

"But, in a way, you feel it still counts for something?" After all, he said it doesn't count much, not doesn't count at all.

"Friends of your son?" Hey, guess which subject he's about to segue into.

"No, actually. People seem to like me for me, heaven forbid. Not that my son's friends aren't perfectly fine, but who wants to hang out with their friends and their mother?"

He folded his arms as he replied, "Yeah maybe. Getting used to the idea that maybe I can. As long it doesn't blow up all in our damn face."

Interesting. "What makes you think that you can't?"

Dean snorted, "Because that's not how my life works. I'm not busting out the life story here, Doc, so save it."

"You'd be surprised. Even though most teenagers will spout off about how they don't need anyone and can handle everything just fine on their own, they still need both guidance and affection. In circumstances like this, where so many children have been separated from their own parents, they'll often turn to an adult who they feels understands them, has shown an interest in them, or displays characteristics they admired in the parent they had or parent they wanted to have.

"It's not unusual for a group of kids to gravitate towards a parent of one of the kids in the group; look up to them as a surrogate parent of sorts." And under these circumstances, it does make him wonder why they didn't look to her for that. But he'd get to that point later.

"I know what teenagers are like, doctor. Like I said, I've got practically a dollhouse full of them," she says dryly. She knows she shouldn't be offended, but she feels as if her mothering abilities have just been called into question. "I've taken on a parent role for other children on the ship. I just don't spend enough time at the house to really connect with my son's friends. Teenage boys need space and privacy as much as they need love and care."

Not true. She helped fight a war with them, at the end. She just will never be their parent or anything really close to it.

She can tell he knows about Marco. She never mentioned a son - he did. It makes her nervous. She bounces her leg a bit, though given her penchant for fidgeting and the fact that she's been working her hand over the arm of the chair the whole time, it probably doesn't look too out of place. Though Samson already has her painfully self-conscious.

Ah, he was one of those.

"I don't need you to," while taking a moment to jot a few things down. For someone who was trying so hard to be guarded, Dean was surprisingly easy to read. Still, the whole picture was incomplete, but he had a solid idea about how much of Dean's romantic life had gone.

"How are things between you and your brother?"

If he noticed the fidgeting, he didn't do anything to indicate it.

Still, that someone as paranoid as Marco would, to a degree, stiff-arm his own mother raised some interesting questions.

"What was your life like before you woke up on the ship?"

Oh thank goodness, he's not asking about Marco anymore. She relaxes half a centimeter.

"Lonely," she admits. "I was famous before I came onto Stacy. The anonymity here has been a godsend."

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Psych Evals, Round 2 [Timed Post-plot/Closed]

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