Mandatory and Willing

[Vincent Meian]

It often surprised Vincent how much interaction had to be made between people when they moved to a new area. Boundaries needed to be defined, rules needed to be set, comparisons needed to be made.

Comparisons? No, that wasn't the right word...

"Compromises," he muttered to himself. That was the word. Compromises.

Tilting his face into the sunshine, Vincent closed his eyes and enjoyed it. The gentle breeze, the smell of warm grass and metal, the warmth of unfiltered light on his tan skin... it was enough to make him relax, understand why he'd worked so hard to come here. It was different than the cities of Japan; no traffic noise, no insane crowds of people, clean air. It was relaxing and comforting, no doubt about that.

He could worry less about his girls. He didn't need to worry about his wife's career. By the stars, he didn't have to worry about his own life. He could just... let the world be.

But, first things first. Opening his eyes, the tall man adjusted his sunglasses and walked into the brick building, the shade instantly cooling his sun-warmed clothes. He dressed as he normally did; a black collared shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, faded black jeans (specially imported from the US - he was too tall for any store to carry his size), and black athletic shoes tightly laced. His hands tucked into his pockets, the thumbs resting in his belt loops against the deep red leather of his belt. His hair was tied back, bangs and random wisps escaping the binding ponytail, and his face had set into its neutral expression.

Glancing briefly at a pair of students hurrying by, Vincent continued his walk down the halls, taking in each and every door and committing it to memory. He'd have to walk these corridors a dozen more times before he could remember them all, but for now he had a decent idea of where he was going. He even made his way to the staff offices without getting lost. Talk about first time Luke.

Luke? No... "luck". That was it. Despite learning English over the last four years, he still mixed things up occasionally. Cassi was much better at these things than he, and Appoline... well, his daughters learned better than he did, let's just say.

He passed a door and stopped, turning to look at it once more in vague amusement. "Vincent Meian" the sign by the door stated meekly, beneath that "Trainer". He was surprised they'd have an office ready for him already, especially since he shared one with twenty others back in Japan. A faint, low chuckle rose from deep in his throat, and he shook his head. How interesting it would be to work in such a school where all the teachers had their own offices. It almost seemed too privet.

Or, was that the word? He shook his head again. No, not quite right. What was it?

Oh well. It wasn't worth it. He was late anyway. Turning from the office, Vincent continued walking until he found the door he was looking for. The sign beside it claimed the occupant as "Dr. Sean Neville". This was the place.

Raising his left hand from his pocket, the Japanese teacher rapped sharply on the door's frame, the silver band on his finger glinting in the institutional lighting.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The summer term was a unique time in Sean’s schedule. As with every year, several of his standing appointments no longer existed, because the students had graduated. Because Hammel had continuing enrollment, he rarely had a new “crop” of students appear all at once, and thus the summer was the least busy time of year for him. Particularly with the sexual education seminar delivered for another year. He spent days and weeks preparing the lecture material for his annual seminar, and with that finished, there was truly a fair amount of free time.

The psychiatrist used it to his advantage. He made sure that he was caught up on all of his paperwork, and that he had closed out all of the files of graduating students. He had to keep the records for seven years, in compliance with HIPPA and school regulations, but he liked to have everything organized. With his additional time, he often engaged in research and checked in with the status updates on the DSM-V. Its release date had been pushed back again, but he wanted to be informed. He had opinions about several of the more controversial updates, but nobody had asked his opinions, and in the end, they were irrelevant to other people.

Summer in Vermont was pleasant, albeit warm and often humid. Because of how warm it was, he switched from regular hot coffee to the iced variety, and he had a cup on the edge of his desk while he read through the latest volume of The Journal of Educational Psychology. There were a few new studies, two of which were potentially pertinent to Hammel’s policies, and he liked to stay abreast of the field.

His reading was interrupted by a knock at the door. The mind he sensed outside of the door was unfamiliar to him, which meant it wasn’t one of his students stopping by for a chat. He marked his place in the journal and set it aside, while straightening in his chair. “Please, come in,” he called out.

[Vincent Meian]

Spurred by the voice inside, Vincent turned the handle on the door and opened it, tilting his head slightly as he walked into the room. It wasn't as necessary as it had been in Japan, as the door was made for someone at least six feet tall, but the habit remained all the same.

"Dr. Neville, I presume?" he asked, his Japanese accent thick and nearly stumbling over the "v" as the "l"s rolled slightly with an almost "r"-like sound. The English "v" still game him trouble, despite his own name's usage of it, however that was of little consequence. "I was told that you are..." he paused, searching for the word, "...a counselor? Perhaps this word is not correct, but I hope that my meaning is clear. May I shut the door?"

He gestured towards the door briefly, his other hand slipping from his pocket to adjust the white bandanna across his forehead. Rarely was he nervous, but this man was an equal and deserved respect solely for his profession. It was not easy work, helping children with trauma in their lives. He understood this, and was moderately concerned that he had not given the American before him enough respect up front. It was not his nature to forget introducing himself - nervousness and fumbling with a language he was unused to made his mind scatter.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“This is he,” Sean replied with a nod of confirmation. The man standing before him was as unfamiliar as his mind, which led the telepath to assume that he was either a new employee or that he had a relative who had just been enrolled at the school. Based on both his appearance and his accent, the psychiatrist further postulated that he (or they) had come from Eisai gakkō. “And I am, the Hammel psychiatrist. By all means, shut the door and make yourself comfortable.”

Sean gestured at the furniture in the room. In addition to the chairs before his desk, there was the comfortable sofa and arm chairs at the other end of the office. The other man was welcome to sit anywhere he wished and Sean would move accordingly.

Because the other man was probably from their sister school, the psychiatrist didn’t offer his hand for a handshake. He tried to be aware of other customs, even if he was hardly perfect. Enough exposure to their sister school made him familiar with at least some mannerisms, and those were a starting point. He could take his cues from the other man after they had finished introductions and other pleasantries.

“What may I do for you?” He asked. His voice was light, and he expression was easygoing, to demonstrate that he was non-threatening and that he hadn’t been interrupted.

[Vincent Meian]

Shutting the door behind him, Vincent glanced briefly around the office before bowing to the other man. It was a shallow bow, but one that expressed his courtesy nonetheless.

"My name is Vincent Meian," he stated, organizing his name the way Americans did with the family name after the given. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance. My family and I have transferred from Eisai Gakkō, and the administration here told me it would be..." he struggled with the word for a moment, "...wise to speak to you before preparing for my duties as an instructor."

He stood before the desk, hands resting on the back of the chair in front of him. After a moment, he removed the sunglasses, feeling that it would be rude to hide from the man he was supposed to be speaking to. Golden brown eyes rimmed with red blinked once at the sudden brightness of the room, then settled on the doctor before him. Crows feet marked the edges of his upturned eyes, and lines creased between his arched brows. It wasn't terribly obvious, but this man was certainly older than he appeared at first glance.

Though he had calmed much of his nervousness, his hands still tapped lightly on the back of the chair as if distracted. The digits were long, like most people of his height and lean build, and were covered with small scars. His exposed arms also had similar marks, though they were larger and seemed to have cut deeper before they healed, and a black tribal-like tattoo wrapped around his right like a flame pillar or serpent, covering a few of them from obvious view. Like the scars covering most of his body, he'd received them from his time in the Rikujō Jieitai - the Japanese Ground Defense Forces. He was not ashamed of these scars; he had received them honorably in the line of duty protecting humans and meta-humans from each other.

Unlike the ones on his back, that is. However...

Dr. Neville seemed to be expecting something of him, and the thought finally came to Vincent's mind. Stepping around the chair carefully, the too-tall man eased himself into the seat, sitting straight and resting one ankle on the other knee. He folded his hands in his lap and searched the doctor's face impassively. He was older than Vincent would have guessed; possibly in his early fifties but he wore it well. He looked like he smiled often. He also looked as if his work wore on him; Nakia had similar lines of distress, though both she and this new individual seemed to derive character rather than weariness from them. It suited them both.

Clearing his throat, Vincent reached to adjust his headband once more but realized the subconscious motion halfway up and stopped, placing his hand back into his lap. "So, Neville-sensei, where should we begin? I wish to hide nothing from a co-worker... ah..."

He frowned, struggling to find the correct word once more. It wasn't precisely the word he's said, though it was close. Nik said it frequently when she was speaking of her work in medicine - in Japanese it was douyaku, yet... damn, the English equivalent fled from his memory.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean returned the bow by inclining his head from where he sat. It was an acknowledgment of the other man’s courtesy and greeting, to the best of his ability. “It’s nice to meet you as well, Vincent. I hope that your trip was comfortable.”

The psychiatrist had met several faculty and administration from Eisai Gakkō before, because they were one of Hammel’s sister schools. He had always been impressed with the people he had met, and he appreciated that Japan’s school had their same mission statement. In that way, he was never concerned when he learned of transfers, because he was sure that there would be the same commitment to the students, even if there were other cultural differences and adjustments.

Once the other man removed his sunglasses, making eye contact was easier. The telepath craned his neck upward, noticing the signs of age in the man’s face. Sean was still sure that Vincent was younger than he was, since he didn’t appear that old, but he mentioned a family. Perhaps in his forties, then, rather than his thirties. He could always ask, if he became curious enough. However, the redness in the other man’s eyes illustrated that perhaps it hadn’t been as comfortable a trip as hoped. Moving was stressful, as were flights from the opposite side of the world. And side effects were also always possible causes.

Sean’s gaze fell briefly to the other man’s hands at the sound of tapping. He took in the scars; there appeared to be far too many of them, and the thought of side effects crossed his mind again. He hoped it was only that, as painful a side effect as that might be. The other idea which immediately came to mind was the result of violent exposure, as Yulia and Vincent Romanov had experienced, and for everyone’s sake, the psychiatrist hoped that wasn’t the case.

Once the other man had sat, Sean offered him a smile. This was followed by a quick shake of his head. “Please, call me ‘Sean.’ We’re colleagues.” He had the same rule for everyone with whom he worked: those who had been his teachers when he had been a student (although such people were increasingly rare), those who had been students with him during the same years at Hammel, those who had been students after he had been a faculty member, and those who transferred from other places. Everyone was a colleague and was thus entitled to call him by his first name.

“As for where to begin, that depends on what you want to discuss. I can explain policy. I can tell you which students will be problems.” He offered another smile then, which was vaguely conspiratorial. “Whatever you want to talk about.”

[Vincent Meian]

Vincent almost laughed at the idea of a comfortable trip. He hated flying - it made him so anxious that in order to sleep at all on the almost twenty hour flight, his wife had needed to prescribe him with a sedative. Even still, sleeping well in a new place was... difficult. "Our flight was uneventful," he answered, a slight smile filled with grim humor tugging at his lips. "We arrived safely, however, so that is all that is important."

As the man before him offered more familiar terms, the Japanese man thought on this for a moment. He had heard that given names were much less personal in most countries, however he had always wondered about the practice. Perhaps it was to place more emphasis on the individual rather than the family? "If that is what you wish," he answered, still moderately skeptical.

Ah, colleagues. That was the word. Nodding in thanks for the subtle help, Vincent waited until he had finished speaking to consider the question. What had he expected to talk about? When he met with the other therapists, they wished to discuss his own mental state; something he was radically uncomfortable with due to the shame of his "incident". It was less of an issue now, but he had expected something of the sort. Though, given Dr. -- Sean's apparent lack of knowledge of his arrival, perhaps his files simply hadn't arrived yet.

"Problem students are not much of a concern for me," he answered slowly, thinking over the implications of such wording. "If there are those that simply refuse to train, the fault lies within them and must be addressed before progress may be made. Students with problematic powers are... in good company, I believe is the phrase." The wry smirk made a brief reappearance before fading, though the amusement remained.

"I have not studied this school's policies as much as I would have preferred," Vincent admitted, almost sheepish. "If you have the time, I would... appreciate the lesson." He wasn't sure the word was right, but it fit well enough to convey his meaning. Much of the last four years was dedicated to being able to speak with his students and ensuring his family could make the trip; aside from making himself familiar with general rules and guidelines (which were very similar to Eisai's), he had little knolwedge of the school's inner workings.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Air travel wasn’t for everyone, and Sean had met his share of people uncomfortable with heights and flying. Certainly the trip from Japan to Vermont, and the necessary layovers and connection flights, was enough to induce anxiety in even comfortable, experienced flyers. For those who were predisposed to discomfort, then the trip went from long and mildly stressful to almost nightmarish. Given the twitch in the younger man’s lips, the telepath assumed he fell into the latter category. Fortunately, the trip was over, and he wouldn’t have to contend with another flight unless they returned to Japan to visit friends or family, and that would surely be many months in the future. “That is what’s important,” he agreed with a nod. “And now it’s behind you.” Which was also important.

Sean returned the other man’s smile, as though sharing a secret. He approved of Vincent’s philosophy regarding powers and training; it was a refreshing break from some of the other trainers, such as Honor. She got results, but the telepath was frequently glad that he was far too old to have ever had her as a trainer. Still, not every problem student, due to attitude or aptitude, rather than powers, was so easily dealt with. The other man was fortunate to have arrived after this last graduating class, so he’d missed some of the worst of them, in terms of attitude, but there remained Sam Rixon. Vincent Verax didn’t require training classes, so he wouldn’t be a thorn in the new trainer’s side, fortunately for him. “To that end, if you do find yourself with Sam Rixon in your training group, I’d recommend a fire extinguisher and your headache medicine of choice.” Sometimes the boy meant well. But that didn’t make his antics less frustrating.

“I’d be happy to,” the psychiatrist affirmed with a smile. He didn’t make idle offers, because that was rude at best and cruel at worst. As such, any offer to help was always genuine, even when it was related to his job rather than wholly personal. “Where would you like to begin? School politics? General practices?”

[Vincent Meian]

"I thank you for the advice." Nodding in agreement to the psychiatrist's suggestions, Vincent then asked, "Is this Rixon boy a pyrotechnic? Or does he simply enjoy lighting things on fire? Depending on which it is, there are a number of solutions I may... employ." He wasn't sure it was quite the right word to describe the young man, but it seemed too close to distinguish the difference.

"The politics, please," he answered in response to Dr. Neville's question. "Many rules regarding students are the same here as in Eisai, including curfew, guests, and academic requirements." He paused for a moment, a question he'd thought of days ago worrying his mind. He searched for a moment, then found it. "Although, there is something unique here - there is every year a mandatory 'lecture' that all graduation students must attend. My daughter attempted to help me find information on it, however those who have graduated simply call it 'The Talk'. What is this lecture?"

He was honestly puzzled by the mechanics of the school and the concept of a mandatory lecture for all seniors. If the lecture was mandatory, why not a class such as Grammar or Mathematics? Such an important lecture should need to be expanded in detail and leave no questions unanswered, yes?


((By the way, this is totally IC - Vincent has no idea what The Talk is, as sex ed in Japan is very varied between schools. Everyone learns what it is, but it's generally a two-week course during a Health class and is not mandatory.))

[Dr. Sean Neville]

It was Sean’s turn to nod in agreement. “He’s a pyrokinetic, yes, with exceptionally poor control over his abilities. That isn’t helped by some of his hobbies and his social circle.” The faculty did what they could to intervene with his substance abuse, but that only went so far. As well, when one’s best friend was Vincent Verax, one was doomed to academic failure. At least some of the rest of his social circle had graduated, and perhaps he could turn it around free of those influences, and with the internship he had earned.

The telepath nodded again in his acknowledgment of the request. Then his expression turned upward into a small smile. “The ‘Talk’ is what people call our annual sexual education seminar. I happen to teach that. It has a bit of a reputation.”

He was prepared to answer all questions on that topic that the other man might have. Both regarding specific events and curriculum, as well as why it would be mandatory and yet not have a full semester of health. “We try not to advertise the specifics outside of the school, so I can’t say I’m surprised that there isn’t much to be found on the Internet.”

Particularly after the seminar of 2011, he was sure that the technopaths had gone into protective overdrive. He didn’t know if they had lifted their technological veil yet.

[Vincent Meian]

The Japanese trainer nodded in understanding. The people that one associated with tended to help or hinder one's own progress. However, that did not mean that this Rixon boy needed to remove himself from his friends to become more producing --productive, he mentally corrected. He just needed to focus on more immediate things. Though the mention of hobbies bothered him slightly; how did hobbies hurt one's academics?

"Could you... specify, please?" he asked haltingly, not quite understanding. If it was something that Sean was free to speak of, it would help if and/or when Rixon was transferred to Vincent's training group. If it was not something the trainer was privy, to, however, he would have no issue not being told. It would not be something he needed to know.

Dark eyebrows lifted in surprise at the new-found candidness in the conversation at the mention of the sexual seminar. It was very different from the way things were done at Eisai, and he wasn't exactly sure how to comment on it. I see. Perhaps it works more effectively here to be direct. It didn't surprise him, really; many things were spoken of directly in the states from what he had heard, and just as many were not.

"I can understand that," he answered finally. "Many parents are... wary of sexual matters being spoken of in schools. I think it is good for the students, however, despite the inherent..." he grasped for the word, "...immaturity. How exactly do you prepare for such a lesson, and how do students communicate their questions to you? They must have quite a few, yes?"

He knew from his own days as a hot-headed teen that this was likely the case; young men and women rarely knew the first thing about sex until they participated in it.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean was in the habit of speaking of Sam’s substance abuse in euphemisms with the other staff, since they all had the shared knowledge. However, with the request to clarify, he nodded, realizing that he should have been more clear. “Of course. Sam has a tendency to abuse marijuana and alcohol, both of which are illegal and do a number on his faculties. They also don’t help with his already abysmal control of his powers, since they undermine his focus.”

The psychiatrist was candid about this, and it was both personality-related as well as cultural. He thought it important for people to be aware.

He also had strong opinions about the necessity of providing comprehensive sexual education to students. Most parents, and many schools, were remiss. It didn’t stop exploration; it only prevented safety. “I also think it’s good for the students, which is why I have the job. I’m glad that Vermont has mandatory curriculum; not every state does.” But he would try not to inject politics into associations with new faculty. It wasn’t always appropriate.

“I leave a box for anonymous questions outside of my office for the week leading up to the seminar. Students can ask any question, and then I’ll research and answer them during the lecture. Some of the students are a little shy, but I have them covered too.” Sean then reached up and lightly tapped his right temple with his index finger. “It’s hardly my favorite application of telepathy, but it is an exceptionally useful one. The students can think of any question they might want answered, and nobody but me will know, so it can’t harm their reputations.”

Except in the case of Jeff Dougal, but that was an extenuating circumstance. Whenever the boy learned to control his power, it would cease to be problematic.

Inwardly, the telepath agreed with the younger man’s assessment. There were so many misconceptions that he had to correct every year, but in accordance with his typical outlook: he would rather do it himself and be assured that they learned correctly than rely on someone else and save his time and effort.

[Vincent Meian]

"Ah, I understand," the trainer replied, nodding. Recreational drug use was an issue in Japan as well, though it usually applied to cigarettes rather than marijuana. Still, he'd seen his fair share of addicts. "Perhaps then it would be... pertinent..." he asked the word quizzically to make sure he had the right one before continuing, "... to address this before even beginning a training session."

If he could not focus, he could not learn. And if he could not learn, he could not control. It was a spiral downwards, but one the boy himself had to stop. If he didn't want to, there was little to be done.

He nodded along with Sean's assessment of the value of the sexual education; he had known too many people who had been forced into parenthood early or had contracted something through unsafe practices. "That seems to be a reasonable requirement," he stated. "More available education leads to better decisions, if I may speak so generally."

Vincent was a bit surprised, however, to find that the older man was a telepath. He had not been told of this, or if he had it had slipped his mind rather effectively. Without intending to, he felt his emotional barriers raise, and he forced them back down. Do lift such barriers after learning something so minor was not polite, and he refused to give the impression that he didn't trust him. So, he calmed himself quickly and gave Sean a slightly apologetic look.

"I am sorry. I have not had the opportunity to speak with a telepath before. Please forgive my rudeness."

He searched for words to continue the conversation in a lighter tone and found them. "I believe such a power would be very useful in your profession," he offered, giving a weak smile. "Is that perhaps why you chose this career?" It was an oddly personal question for him, but it was something to divert the topic back to safer waters.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean smiled somewhat ruefully at Vincent’s assessment. The younger man was correct, but it wasn’t as though the Hammel faculty had neglected to try before. Unfortunately, it proved quite difficult to prevent Sam from indulging in his illicit substances, even with the random raids of his dormitory room. The psychiatrist still held out hope that he could graduate, which put him ahead of Vincent Verax. “We do try to work on his substance abuse as well, but a fresh person might have better luck.”

They could hope.

The telepath nodded again in agreement; that was precisely his philosophy. “It does. I give out prophylactics, and I’d far prefer they learn from me than from propaganda or the Internet. It all works out.”

The conversation lulled for a moment, followed by a momentary shift he detected from the other man. Well...that was to be expected. Less so, but appreciated, was the fact that he felt the shift back almost immediately.

Sean then waved off both the apology as well as the underlying offense with a small gesture. In the grand scheme of his life, Vincent’s reaction was mild; it was also quite common, and unlike many other people, he had apologized and realized his lapse. “It’s fine. I get that fairly often.”

For better or for worse, most non-psychics had the same initial reaction to meeting a telepath. That had never deterred Sean from being open and honest about his powers.

To further demonstrate he was genuine, Sean smiled again. “People say that a lot too, and it’s true. The telepathy is very helpful with sessions.” His smile widened. “You’d be half-right. I’m sure that my interest in psychology was aided by my powers, but I come from a family of doctors.”

There had never been another option in terms of his career. He was a male Neville; he knew he had to go to medical school, long before he was in a position to choose his career.

[Vincent Meian]

The trainer spread his hands in a gesture of supplication; he had meant no disrespect with the comment. It was, in fact, only an observation. "Does the boy switch trainers regularly?" he asked, genuinely interested. "From the way you speak, it seems that he may not have found someone suitable yet."

Not that he found himself suitable for just anyone, but it would be good to know if the boy had given up or if it was the trainers themselves.

Despite the forgiving gesture, Vincent's eyes flicked downcast, still modestly ashamed of his actions however slight. It had been ingrained in him to control his emotions at all times (especially those of anger or fear) lest his powers act without his permission. The presence of people who could sense the peculiarities in his thought process made him nervous; but while he could trust the intentions of those who could read thoughts, he had a harder time with those who influenced emotions. Nothing personal, really; he just didn't want to suddenly vanish again without warning.

However, since his apology had been accepted, there was little more he could say on the subject, so he moved on.

He nodded once again in understanding as Sean spoke of his family reasons for becoming a doctor. "Ah, so it merely aided the decision of specialty," he mused aloud. He gave a brief smile to the man across the desk, adding, "My wife is much the same. She wished to be a doctor when she was a student, and her powers gave her the means to do so."

Affection flickered through his thoughts at the mention of his wife; he deeply loved her, and had for their nearly twenty years of marriage. But as quickly as the emotion rose it settled into something less passionate, though she still lingered at the edge of his thoughts as he switched conversations again.

"I have been unsure of how to ask this," he started, searching for the right words, "but what is the appropriate rank system here? I mean not status, however there are certain procedures that must be followed for political or safety reasons. I know not the term for it in this language. Are there different officials one must speak to depending on circumstance? For example, mild disciplinary action as opposed to outside violent threats, or perhaps with whom to file reports?"

He referred, of course, to the various applications of the chain-of-command commonly used in political and military circles, though he'd never heard the term in English before.