Fake it ~ [Sean]

Sean had never felt the urge to become a trainer. From a young age, he had wanted to be a doctor (and that had been expected of him as his father’s son. When his telepathy manifested, he knew that he wanted to become a mental health professional, which was how he came to be a psychiatrist, and years later, how he had come to work at Hammel.

Despite never wanting to be a trainer, he had nothing but the utmost respect for the trainers at Hammel. Both because of his relationship with his own mentor, as well as because he knew how stressful the job could be.

Moreover, the psychiatrist spoke to the trainers and was kept apprised of any major issues. In addition to what he gleaned from the telepathy and from reading the student files, and whatever came up at staff meetings.

As a result, Sean knew a bit about Leiken Chu.

Their arranged meeting came on the heels of what had sounded to be an unpleasant, if not wholly disastrous, training session. The type that illustrated why he was glad that he wasn’t a trainer. Even ifhe occasionally had to deal with the fallout.

When Lei arrived, he called for the boy to enter his office. “Come in!”

When the boy had, he gestured at the chairs around the room, not merely the ones in front of his desk, but the ones at the other end of the office near the sofa. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Sean waited for the boy to enter his office. Leiken was off to a good start, in that he closed the door behind him without being prompted. Since he chose to sit in front of the desk, rather than further back in the office, the psychiatrist was able to remain where he was, instead of moving to another chair.

However, they were off to a less than ideal start, in a more substantial way. There was little reason to be uncomfortable in this office, given that the boy had made this appointment of his own volition. He hadn’t been forced to come here by a relative arranging it behind his back; he hadn’t been forced to come here by a staff member, and he wasn’t here for a disciplinary meeting.

Because he had arranged the meeting himself, he was the only one with direct knowledge of what he needed. Unless Sean chose to probe, but he tried not to do that absent permission from the student or a reason to probe directly. He might overhear, as was the nature of telepathy, but he didn’t probe.

“What can I do for you today?”

The direct approach would likely be the best with Leiken. Given what Sean knew of his personality.

Sean leaned forward in his chair, demonstrating that he was listening attentively as Leiken described what had brought him to this office. Unsurprisingly, his concerns were also related to his training and relationship with his trainer. Given what the psychiatrist had learned of that training session, he would be concerned if either party wasn’t somewhat unsettled by it.

Sean waited for Leiken to finish his explanation, as he didn’t want to interrupt him. Only when he was sure that the boy had nothing further to add on the topic, before he took his turn to speak.

“I’m not in charge of the training program,” he began. There was nothing in his position or job title to indicate that he was, but given his somewhat eclectic collection of tasks, and his rather ubiquitous reputation, it was possible that the boy believed he had more direct authority than he did. “Mrs. Morgenstern, the Headmistress, has final say over anything involving personnel assignments. I could arrange a meeting with her, if you’d like.”

She was busy, but he was sure they could find a time that would work for everyone involved.

“If you don’t want to meet with her, I could always set up a mediation meeting. A low-pressure situation where you could each talk with the presence of a third party.” That was within the psychiatrist’s job description, both for his position at Hammel as well as his training as a mental health professional.

“I’ve found the best way to understand someone is to talk to them directly,” he explained.

Sean could hardly fault Leiken for not wanting to meet with Yvette. She was a stern and imposing woman, and while he knew that she had Hammel’s, and the students’, best interests in mind, it could still be nerve-wracking to meet with the Headmistress. Particularly if she decided that the best course of action was to reassign Leiken, where he might find himself with Chase, who was easy to get along with but also didn’t put up with backtalk, or Honor who...was Honor.

“The purpose of mediation is to help the two of you to come to an understanding, so that you don’t need a third party there in the future,” Sean explained. There were often misconceptions about meditation, and so he wanted to explain fully the goals of such an arrangement. Particularly since this wasn’t a situation that involved an abusive spouse, for instance, and thus he thought it could be beneficial. In other situations, he didn’t bother making the suggestion, because it was inherently doomed to fail.

He then turned his palms upward, before settling his hands before him on his desk. “While I understand why you might say that, I can promise you that he isn’t. Most of the trainers can come off a bit stern at first.”

Honor and Chase could equally be called that at first look, if they were using their powers. But it wasn’t true. Well, not for Chase.

“Training isn’t a competition,” Sean remarked. Training was highly individualized, and a student couldn’t compare his progress with that of any other student. Likewise, training wasn’t a zero sum game, where the trainer and the student each tried to score points off the other. Sean might have little to do in the arena of training, but he knew that was a disastrous way to view the sessions; such an outlook would only stall progress.

“I’m sure that he doesn’t want to get under your skin,” the psychiatrist continued. Vincent was a mature adult, and he wasn’t in the habit of tugging people’s pigtails to irritate them or to get their attention. “Talk to him about how you feel about training, so that the two of you can reach common ground.”

As Sean had said, in his experience, people responded better to direct communication.

“He’s your trainer,” the psychiatrist reminded him. “The relationship you develop with him is for your benefit, and it will be unlike all other relationships you have. He won’t disappear after the semester, like an English teacher, and he won’t fall away like the kid you don’t like in homeroom. If he annoys you, talk to him. Find common ground. If you don't think you can find common ground, bring in a third party. But learning through second and third parties disorts information."

While in one sense, Sean could sympathize with that perspective, in another, larger sense, he knew the folly (and the danger) in blaming one’s imperfections on others. “If interacting with other people makes you lose control, then that means more training, not less, is necessary.

For better or for worse.

“People who expect not to bargain in good faith ensure that they never will,” the psychiatrist replied. He knew better than many other people how often humans could be dishonest; he also understood the reasons behind the dishonesty, and how a lack of open communication led to more misunderstandings. And how misunderstandings were far more common than intentional, malicious lies.

“Again, I’ve found that being open about my needs and honest with people while willing to listen to them goes farther in learning to trust than testing them does.” Tests were suspicious, since many people who tested others expected the others to fail. If the other person passed, rather than feeling reassured, the tester had a tendency to create ever more hoops to jump through, until the other person inevitably failed because the hoops were impossible. The tester remained suspicious, and it was a waste of time and energy for everyone involved. “You might feel vulnerable for a bit, but your trainer is in a position to see you vulnerable. It’s part of training.”

Unbridled powers created vulnerabilities.

The psychiatrist steadily met the boy’s gaze. “I know that he genuinely cares about the students. I know that he’s open to discussion. And I know that when he says he won’t give up on you, he’s sincere. He won’t, even if others have in the past.”

Sean knew other facts about Vincent: about his relationship with his wife, about his history before Hammel, about his children, but none of those were matters for discussion with a student. None of that information belonged to the psychiatrist to divulge, and he had a strict code about what information he disclosed and to whom.

Sean turned one hand palm upward, a gesture that substituted for a shrug. “I would presume you wanted to gain my insight.” Leiken had scheduled this appointment, not the other way around.

“Because not everyone who is aware of someone’s weaknesses will exploit them,” the psychiatrist replied, matter-of-fact. The boy’s remark also made it plain, and telepathy confirmed, that Leiken was wholly unaware of Sean’s abilities. Perhaps he wouldn’t have come had he known that the psychiatrist was a psychic, and an exceptionally strong one at that.

But mentioning that he was would likely do more harm than good at the moment. Given how paranoid and suspicious the boy was, adding “By the way, I can hear your thoughts and know all of your secrets by virtue of your proximity” would only worsen his opinions of others. Mentioning it might give him an upper-hand for a moment but the lasting damage could be devastating.

No, best to keep that to himself for the moment.

“Some people are deceptive,” the psychiatrist conceded with a slight nod. “But not everyone is. Expecting everyone to be means living in a constant state of dissatisfaction without allowing others close to you. One misses out on the best parts of life that way.”

And while Sean had better insight, he would take the risks without it.

The psychiatrist didn’t sigh when the boy rose to his feet, although he did correct him reflexively. “Language.” While it wasn’t as profane as some remarks, Leiken did need to remember that he was speaking to an adult and a staff member.

“But if you want to leave, you may do so.” Leiken had come here of his own volition, which meant that he could leave when he wished to. “My door is open, should you change your mind.”