Prelude To Descent [Sean]

[Devon Wentsworth]

To say Devon's first week at Hammel had been eventful would be something of an understatement. The classes themselves had been reasonably pleasant, especially considering he was a completely new face taking over the art studio right near the end of the school year. Really, there couldn't have been a much more awkward time for his arrival, but at least it gave him a flavour of the way the school ran and the people within it before classes began anew after the summer break. A nice, easy, gentle introduction to the new country, the new system and the new students.
That had been the theory, anyway.

The archaic phrase was 'bad things always come in threes' and for the Brit this had certainly proved to be true. On his very first day exploring the school that irritable lad in the art studio had dropped and broken another student's work, shattering it into a dozen pieces before proceeding to bleed out. Sadly, in hindsight, Devon should probably have counted that as his gentle introduction for what was to come. The child that had turned into cement and passed out in the studio had been a true shock to Devon, something that he had never seen before even during his years at Kocher. He had been fascinated by the boy's ability, but that fascination had turned into panic when he had realised just how utterly out of his depths he felt. Three years teaching in a rough public school in Reading could never have prepared him for that.

Yet even that was not what was causing the deep worry that had been burrowing its way into his mind, that was leading his Converse-clad feet down the corridors towards the office of Hammel's psychiatrist.

Sakiya Min. That one brief interaction with that one student could quite possibly determine the entirety of the rest of Devon's life. He wasn't even supposed to have been in on that day, was simply covering for a meeting that the previous art teacher had left hanging, and yet it had proven to be one of the most dramatic meetings of his life so far. Devon had read the girl's file later that day, once he had taken the time to calm himself, and he knew he had been played. Bribery and manipulation were things he was well used to experiencing, hell, he'd even utilised them himself before now, but that... that was a whole new world of messed up. That was a literal mind-fuck that had left him feeling utterly confused, ashamed, embarrassed and terrified.

Devon had seen students try to pull some really nasty stunts to try to snag a grade they didn't deserve, but never before had it been this potentially devastating. What if she had been stronger? What if he hadn't been able to fight it off? What if someone had walked past? What if... What if...

He knew that he could very well get fired for this. Hell, he could even go to jail for this. What jury would believe a thirty year old man over his innocent-seeming child pupil. He doubted that, even in this day and age, 'she magically roofied me' would be a viable testimonial for a teacher to make, even if it was the truth.
Don't pick up the soap, Devon.

It had been a few days now and he had tried so hard to find some way of rationalising what had happened, but he couldn't. Devon knew he had to tell someone what had happened and put his fate, and his future, in their hands. He had heard rumours that the psychiatrist was psychic, and so that was where he had decided to go, booking a meeting for after classes on Friday afternoon. Devon wasn't entirely sure what the psychiatrist would do, but hopefully if the rumours were true, maybe there would be at least one person who could see the truth of what had occurred in the art studio. What happened after that, he guessed, would be up to the man on the other side of the wooden door. Taking a deep breath, Devon knocked.

Here goes everything...

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The school year had wound to a close. Sean was accomplished for the year, as he typically was; several of his protégés and other students had graduated, several more would be here for the next year. His final reports were filed, and there remained only a bit of paperwork left to complete before he could begin his summer vacation.

Of course, as Hammel was a year-round-school, his summer vacation was significantly shorter than if he worked at Pilot Ridge High School. Still, the month that he had earned was to be cherished, and he had plans to spend the time with his partner and with Bailey. Their foster daughter would enjoy the vacation, he hoped; he wanted to take her site-seeing in a few places. Perhaps to New York to show her where he and Josh had grown up.

However, all vacation plans were secondary to his professional duties. While on the Hammel campus, he remained bound by his responsibilities as the school psychiatrist, open and available to anyone in need of his assistance. Thus, when he heard the knock at the door, he looked up from his bit of organizing and called out, “Please come in.”

Almost immediately, he also sensed the whirlwind of distressed (and distressing) thoughts from the person outside his door, whom he recognized as their newest teacher, Devon Wentsworth.

Sean hadn’t formally met Devon; the younger man hadn’t been a Hammel student. However, Sean had the uncanny ability (through telepathy) to be familiar with everyone at Hammel, irrespective of introductions.

The distress that he sensed caused him to rise from his chair in anticipation of Devon’s entrance. In case the younger man needed a guiding hand to sit down and calm.

[Devon Wentsworth]

It was so hard to believe that all of this drama and heartache had occurred in so few days. Had the circumstances not been so dire Devon would have been sure he was being trolled, or that this was some form of new teacher hazing. Sure it was the end of the school year and everyone tended to be getting rowdy and excited for the summer break, but this wasn't simply noisy classrooms and a few extra fights that were pushed a bit over the line in the sand. This was so far past the line that it was lost in a rainforest somewhere.

Devon's original plan had been to spend the summer vacation looking for a proper house, somewhere he could actually unpack and settle and call home. Get his drivers license changed over, explore the rest of the county, maybe even get ready for the next school year, when he would be starting officially full time. Now he wasn't even sure if he'd still be a free man come autumn.

Hearing the voice from the other side of the door was at once a relief and a new concern. He had wanted the psychiatrist to be there, to hopefully be able to offer some form of... something. Devon still wasn't entirely certain what he wanted. The truth? To be told everything would be okay? If it went south, someone else to call the cops so he didn't have to turn himself in? The ear to hear the truth of what had happened was on the other side of the door, but that also meant that he would have to speak it.

Turning the handle, Devon stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He wasn't afraid of the other man, even despite the rumours; he had met several telepath's in his time at Kocher, but this was the first time he was actively seeking one out for help. He was far more used to trying to hide his mischief from their ever-knowing thoughts. Still clearly anxious and on edge, Devon hovered by the door. “Hi. You're Doctor Neville, right? I'm Devon, the new art teacher. I'm so sorry to be bothering you, especially this close to the end of the year.”

Devon's left hand reached up, long fingers running through messy black spiked hair as they had done many times on the walk across to the office. “I just...” Devon sighed, right hand gesturing vaguely in the air. “Something happened... or didn't happen, I guess, and I just... I don't know what to do, or who else to talk to about it.”

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Once the door opened, Sean was near the entrance, waiting for the younger man. He tried not to crowd Devon, knowing what his full height (nearly six inches taller than the art teacher) could convey, and the psychiatrist didn’t intend to be imposing. He had to tease out what had happened to the younger man that had upset him the way that it had, but the telepath didn’t intend to behave as, or to treat Devon as, a threat.

With a single nod and one large hand outstretched for a handshake, he confirmed, “Yes, I am Doctor Neville, but you can call me ‘Sean.’” They were colleagues, and thus the younger man had full permission to address him by his given name so that they were on equal footing. “And you aren’t bothering me. Come sit with me.”

With that, the telepath gestured not towards the chairs by his desk, but instead to the sofa and arm chairs on the other side of his office. He began to walk, to serve as a guide for the younger man to come with him and make himself more comfortable.

Of course, the jumbled thoughts that he overheard told an uncomfortable story of the past few days. It would seem that Devon was having A Bad Week.

Hammel was, in many ways, trial by fire.

“You’re welcome to talk to me,” he said, once they had reached the comfortable furniture at the back of his office. “So please, tell me what happened, or what didn’t.”

[Devon Wentsworth]

It wasn't often that Devon felt small stood next to someone, not in his normal shape anyway, yet he felt positively tiny next to the other man. At under six foot of not much other than skin and bone he was hardly a rugby player by any means, but the older man's relaxed air and seeming lack of irritableness put him at ease a little and he was able to return the handshake with a slightly shaky grip.

Devon nodded when Sean introduced himself as such, chewing the corner of his lip slightly as he followed the other man towards the sofas at the other side of the room. That small gesture of abandoning the desk helped more than Devon might have believed; it was less formal, less like an interview. Less like he was already having to try to explain himself to judge and jury. “Thanks, Do-- Sean.”

Seating himself on the sofa, Devon allowed himself a moment to try to get comfortable and remember how to actually form confused and stressing thoughts into actual words. Still unsure if the rumours he had heard were true or not, Devon made no attempt to try to mask what was happening in his head. Honesty would be the way forward here, even if the truth was deeply unsettling.

“Well. I came in last Friday, for a look around, and there was this one kid in the art studio. He was playing around with his powers... He got carried away with it, ending up having a nose bleed... There was another kid, came into the art studio while I was in there and started grabbing everything, started changing... he turned into cement and passed out. I didn't know what to do, ended up getting someone else to come and help...”

Devon fidgeted with the simple black stud in his ear lobe, as he often did when he was anxious. Those two encounters had been awkward, but they had resolved themselves. They were learning experiences, and though he would have rather done without them, they were no longer a threat to him. Saki, on the other hand...

“On Saturday, I had to cover a meeting the last art teacher left hanging. A girl...” Devon's hand slid to his forehead, rubbing it as he tried to find some words, any words, that might make it easier to explain. The way she had spoken, the way she had moved. The utter confusion and helplessness he had felt as his body had betrayed his dignity and better sense. The shame he had held even as he read her file later and discovered that he had been played. “She... manipulated me.”

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“Would you like some water?” Sean asked, since that was readily available. He kept water and ginger ale in his office. While tea had more soothing properties, retrieving it would involve a trip to the staff lounge and necessary interruption of this conversation. The psychiatrist didn’t want to interrupt the flow, not when Devon and he were having their first introduction, and when the younger man was so obviously distressed.

“I also have crackers if you want to settle your stomach.” As a telepath, he required the additional glucose, and he always kept a sleeve of crackers, or something else chock full of starch, on hand for pick-me-ups.

Once the younger man was seated, Sean moved to occupy the armchair adjacent to the sofa. He didn’t pry further than the single question he had already asked. Instead, he was prepared to work at Devon’s pace, letting the art teacher explain what he had experienced and what had caused his distress.

The first two descriptions, while disconcerting for a first week and distressing due to the presence of injury, were standard Hammel fare. Unfortunately, they were a combined middle school and high school, filled with students who had poor impulse control as a natural aspect of adolescence, combined with nascent superpowers. Still, the psychiatrist’s expression was gentle and understanding, his eyes focused on Devon’s face as the younger man spoke. He nodded to show that he was listening and to convey that he understood. “That is a distressing way to start your employment, but I’m sure that both students will be fine.”

Barring terrible accidents, the students always were.

It was the last explanation that drew his complete attention and which ignited the psychiatrist’s concern. Given that he had been responsible, in part, for Brendan’s departure from Hammel in February 2012 (although it was the former art teacher’s fault entirely for his inappropriate conduct with a student), and his own opinions on the matter, he was sensitive to this topic. More than that, as a matter of course, he was always concerned by the use of the word “manipulate” and what it entailed with meta-human abilities.

From Devon’s mind, he could see a visual memory of the girl in question. Sakiya Min’s visage was clear in his mind.

Sakiya was a pheromone manipulator.

While the telepath could easily imagine what had happened next, the precise nature of the resulting actions was of the utmost concern. One course of action was illegal, while the other wasn’t. They had to tread lightly.

“What happened then?” He asked, his full attention still on the young man. The answer to that question would determine their next course of action.

[Devon Wentsworth]

When the Doctor asked if he would like some water Devon gave a small nod of his head. “Yes, please.” He suddenly felt parched, his mouth and throat dry as the Sahara, and he realised he couldn't remember having a drink at all that afternoon. The offer of crackers was met with a polite decline, however. He already felt like he was going to vomit, the last thing he wanted was something in his stomach to encourage that to happen.

Devon's mind flicked to Cade, his big brother thousands of miles away. What would Cade have done in this situation? Simple, really. He wouldn't have gotten into it. He would have gone into the meeting fully prepared and knowing all there was to know. He would have demanded to see the girl's file first, and he would have made sure there was someone else on hand to help if she had gotten ballsy. He had always been the more rational and sensible of the pair.

After explaining the first two events, Devon nodded as Sean noted that both kids would probably be okay. “Yeah, I'm not overly worried about them. It was just a bit of a shock, y'know. Hadn't seen anything like that since I was at Kocher, and it was my first time on the end that actually had to handle it.” Rather than sitting there laughing at it with his mates. Devon was finally starting to understand just how hard those teachers had it, and just how much of a little shit he must have been at times.

“What happened then?”

That was the question that had been rolling around in Devon's head for almost a week. Yes, what exactly had happened? For a long moment Devon was silent, trying to find the right words. When he spoke his voice was quiet and distant. “What happened, was... nothing. She really tried...”

His mind swam with his thoughts at the time. The uncontrollable lust, the images of Scarlett Johansson and Famke Janssen and Matt Bellamy that had been driving him wild. “... But I left. I tried to stay and fight through it, but I was... It was getting... I found an empty classroom and waited in there for a while. She was gone when I went back.” Through all the confusion and distress in his head, Devon was speaking the absolute truth. He met Sean's eye's, his own serious, and about one thing there was not a shadow of doubt in either his voice or his mind. “I never, ever would've.”

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean fetched a bottle of water from the miniature refrigerator that he kept in his office. Upon finding one, he brought it back over to the younger man, before he settled in to listen to Devon’s explanations and engage in a dialogue and reassurance with the art teacher as needed.

Sean listened carefully, attentively, as Devon described the events that had transpired with the girl. The younger man displayed all of the indications of telling the truth: his body language, his facial tics, the timbre of his voice, the pauses and delivery of his words, rather than the words themselves. Additionally, Sean had the ability to confirm the truth of any statement via his telepathy.

Devon was as honest as he was shaken by the events in question.

As distressing as it was for the younger man, this was what Sean had needed to hear. If Devon had committed no illegal or unethical acts, irrespective of outside influences, then he would be fine. The psychiatrist wouldn’t have to intervene on a professional level, insofar as the art teacher was concerned, and they wouldn’t have a repeat of the situation between Brendan James and Vincent Verax.

Sean reached out to lay one hand gently on the younger man’s shoulder, bridging the physical gap between them. “I believe you,” he said, first and foremost wanting Devon to be aware of that simple fact. They could proceed with that established, so that there was trust between them.

“I’ll make sure that she’s disciplined for this, because under no circumstances is that appropriate,” the telepath added. While he was quite sympathetic to the plight of students who were unable to control their abilities, it was an entirely different matter to consciously use more controlled powers for grade manipulation. Such decisions and actions could not be tolerated, lest they teach students to be unethical in their lives outside of Hammel.

Of course, the situation was serious enough that Sean would have to discuss it with Yvette.

That was what he had to do with her. What had to be done for Devon remained to be seen.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he reminded the younger man, his factual statement intended also to reassure. “Not only ethically, but in terms of bad choices at all. This isn’t your fault, and you couldn’t have expected that any student would try this on you.”

Still meeting Devon’s eyes in a steady gaze, Sean asked, “What can I do for you?” He didn’t ask How do you feel? or How are you coping? because the answers to those questions were evident.

[Devon Wentsworth]

Devon took the offered bottle of water with a soft “thanks”, cracking the cap before taking a long swig. It was pleasantly cold and helped ease some of the dryness in his mouth and throat, and Devon downed around half the bottle before replacing the cap and settling it on the ground next to where he was sitting.

This whole interaction had been one of the most stressful and awkward moments that Devon had ever had to face in his life. He had discovered that there was simply no easy way to explain what had happened, and if he was completely honest, he was quietly thankful that the rumours about the psychiatrist had proven to be true. How else would the other man have been able to work out exactly what Devon meant, and more importantly, who he had meant? It was excruciatingly difficult trying to fumble out half a description, he dreaded to think how much tougher it would have been had he been forced to explain every distressing detail.

Devon didn't outwardly act when the hand approached him, though he did watch it a little warily out of the corner of his eye and for a moment he did think 'oh shit, he's going to smack me'. The thought faded as quickly as it had appeared, however, and when the hand rested on his shoulder there was a visible release of some of the tension his body had been holding. The weight and steadiness of it was comforting, and Devon gave a slight nod when Sean said that he believed him. Such a simple statement, but in that moment it meant the world to Devon.

Not sure what to say when Sean said he'd make sure Saki was disciplined, Devon simply nodded again. He was beginning to feel like one of those irritating wobble-head dogs that people had in their cars, but there didn't seem to be much he could reply with. He knew that something would have to be done, lest she try the same tactic on someone else (or on him again), but the actual disciplining of students for matters such as this was out of his job specification. Especially when it was he who was directly involved with the situation. He was just massively grateful that the truth had been believed.

Hearing Sean explain that it wasn't his fault, that he hadn't done anything wrong, was like lifting a little of the weight from Devon's shoulders. Deep down he had known that, but the feeling of helplessness and fear of not being believed had weighed heavily on him and caused the spiral of confusion and worry that had led him to the psychiatrists office. “I know.” Devon let those words sink in for a moment. “I know. I was just...” he waved a hand vaguely “spooked by it, I guess. I mean, I've had kids try to bribe me and stuff before, but that...” He picked up the bottle of water and took another drink. “Never could have expected that, y'know? I guess I was, am, afraid that no one would believe the truth of it.”

Devon's grey eyes met Sean's again, and the steadiness and belief he saw there was deeply reassuring. “I... honestly don't know what you can do. More than you already have, I mean. Just hearing me out and believing me means more than you'd think.” The art teacher was still stressed about the situation and likely would be for a long time to come, but this simple interaction had already taken the confused panic out of him. Beyond that he wasn't sure what the other man could do to help him. He wished Cade were here, to have a drink and a hug and unwind a bit over a terrible movie. So far away...

A soft laugh escaped Devon's lips, a little of the built-up tension escaping. “Wow, this has to be the most TMI introduction ever. I'm sorry for dumping this on ya now, I just didn't know who else to go to.”

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean, candidly, didn’t expect much more from Devon than what the younger man had already displayed, insofar as coherency was concerned. Given the situation, the art teacher had every right to be out of sorts; this was a violation of personal space and of one’s emotions; language didn’t have the proper words or phrases to deal with the enormity of such events. It was one of the many reasons that the telepath found spoken language to be a clumsy medium, even though it was the best that they had given that the vast majority of the population lacked psychic potential.

What mattered was that the younger man had been able to convey what had happened to him, even if Sean had used his powers to fill in the gaps. Devon was now entitled to rest while the psychiatrist and the administration administered the consequencs and tended to clean up.

“You have every reason to be spooked.” The notion was distressing at best. Any sort of romantic or sexual relationship between a student and staff member would, and by necessity, must, end in dismissal and the teacher being added to watch list, if not also with formal charges. It was a terrible line to cross, and for someone who had no desire or inclination to take advantage of another and to violate his position, it was a terrifying experience. The psychiatrist’s expression remained gentle and supportive as he said, “I realize that this won’t help much in the present, but I can promise that this isn’t typical for Hammel students.”

Fires and mischief were typical for Hammel students. Trying to get under Sean’s skin in an attempt to try his patience was typical for Hammel students. Students in trouble were more likely to resemble Sam rather than Jesse, in their conduct.

Sakiya was on his watch list now.

The telepath was sympathetic to that concern. Hammel did engage in thorough investigations, even when the Board or the faculty had to be quick to act. “I can understand that worry,” he assured the younger man. “Fortunately, I have a happy talent for knowing when people are telling me the truth.”

That happy talent took the form of high-level telepathy.

Sean then shook his head, negating the need for any apology. “It’s quite all right. I’d rather that you talked about this with me so that we were able to sort everything out.” Additionally, this wasn’t the worst introduction insofar as TMI to which the telepath had ever been exposed.

However, that was a topic best saved for another day.

[Devon Wentsworth]

Most of the time Devon was well spoken and articulate; sure he was no Stephen Fry, but he had a pretty high education and liked to think he had something of a way with words, even if it wasn't quite on par with his way with art materials. This situation had clearly thrown him for a loop and he was grateful that Sean was able to piece together his rambling, since his usual grasp of language had failed him under the stress put upon him. He wanted to completely open, to let the words try to tumble out, but he knew if he did it would likely be the vocal equivalent of key-smashing.

Devon nodded when Sean said he had a right to be spooked, the words making complete sense now and helping to alleviate a little more of the weight from his shoulders. Devon knew well what the consequences of student – teacher fumblings were, that was a major reason why the whole order had been as stressful as it had been. His emotions and self-control had been tampered with, and even though it wouldn't have been his fault directly, it would still likely have been jail time, regardless of the girls age or ability.

It wasn't an ordeal he was going to forget in a hurry, if ever. Now he just had to try to find a way to attempt to work through his own apprehensions and overcome the confusion and worry he felt. It was time to try to bring out that traditional British stiff upper lip. Keep calm and carry on.

When the doctor explained that this behaviour wasn't typical of the students Devon gave a small smile and nodded again. “It does help, actually. I mean, the classes themselves have been going great, there's some real good, talented kids here. Just seems to be the... extracurricular ones getting into the art studio that seem to be causing the issues.” He gave a soft laugh, fidgeting with his ear stud. “I'm guessing you wouldn't keep staff for very long if all the kids tried to pull tricks like that.”

Mischievous, naughty students were not new to Devon. He'd dealt with fighting, attempted bribery, smoking in the toilets and all manner of pranks before. Between his time in Kocher and his teaching experience in a regular high school he thought he'd be able to manage the pressure of a meta-school. So far Hammel was proving him wrong. However, he'd never been one to back down from a challenge, no matter how hard the odds were stacked against him.

Devon gave a small smile when the doctor spoke of his happy talent. Devon had already worked out what said talent was but he was not concerned about it and was making no attempts to try to hide anything in his mind. There was nothing to hide as far as he was concerned. Sure maybe the thoughts of the women and man that he had been thinking about at the time were perhaps a little inappropriate for sharing with a near-stranger, but that was the least of his worries right now.

As the psychiatrist dismissed his apology Devon gave a slightly brighter smile, relaxing a fraction. “I'm glad I came... This has been burrowing into me for days. Thanks for hearing me out, and for saying you'll look into it.” He reached out, resting his hand on Sean's shoulder for a moment, returning the gesture from before. Fully consenting human contact that was under his own control, no matter how small the contact, was a somewhat liberating feeling and he let out a long breath before letting his arm return to his side. “I feel like I should get you a 'thank you' muffin basket or something. That's what people do over here, right?” He was of course half-joking, trying to relieve some of his tension in the best way he could think of in that moment.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean understood that the students had a propensity for mischief that was highlighted and amplified when they were alone without adult supervision. That was one of the many reasons that he locked his office when he wasn’t using it – or planned to be away for more than a few minutes. That he had access to confidential information was the primary reason, but that also came down to not wanting someone in his office without oversight. As it was, more than one student had destroyed an item on his desk while he was present. “Have you considered locking the art studio when classes aren’t in session?” The telepath inquired. “I realize that it isn’t in the spirit of artistic freedom, but it might help with establishing boundaries, at least until you’re better able to establish yourself.”

If the studio needed a new lock installed, he was sure that Yvette would approve the requisition.

The psychiatrist folded his hands in his lap. “No, we wouldn’t. Fortunately, most of the mischief is nothing more than the expected combination of a boarding school, adolescent hormones, and budding superpowers.” Not that those were without their problems, but it was far better than targeted assault and manipulation. For his own part, Sean would prefer Sam Rixon to Mia Keystone any day of the week, for precisely those reasons.

“I’m glad that you came too,” he replied, keeping his gaze on the younger man’s face. “I can only imagine the weight this must have been, but you needn’t worry any longer.” The psychiatrist was a man of his word, and thus he would discuss this with Yvette to put Sakiya on warning, and then she would find herself in his office first thing on Monday.

At the mention of muffin baskets, a smile flitted across Sean’s lips. “You don’t have to give me anything. This is what I do.” Which was true. One of the telepath’s many duties was making certain that the faculty was comfortable (and if they weren’t, to at least try to help them. Often those situations were above his pay grade, but as the staff psychiatrist, he had to make the effort). Additionally, as a responsible person and as a telepath, he cared about his co-workers and wanted to help them, independently of his position and his duties.

“However, this is something you’d learn sooner or later anyway: I’ve never turned down baked goods.” That was also true. Sean’s sweet tooth was rather notorious among the faculty, and he didn’t hide his gratitude for anything that students or friends gave him from the kindness of their hearts. He simply didn’t want anyone to feel obligated to do him favors, even if the favors were merely baked goods instead of something more dangerous.

He didn’t function on a barter system.

[Devon Wentsworth]

As Sean talked about locking the art studio door Devon nodded, taking another sip of the water. “Yeah, I do now. The first time, with Oriel, he was already in there when I arrived. Someone else had left it open, it was my first time on the campus.” There wasn't much left in the bottle now, but he felt better for having it. “Then with Bryan I was already in there and he just walked in of his own accord. Then Saki...”

Devon finished off the water, capping the bottle and placing it back down by his feet. He changed the subject slightly, trying to fix on that stiff upper lip and progress pass the horrific ordeal. “Locks on some of the equipment drawers might be an idea, though. There's some sharp and toxic things in there, and it'd perhaps be for the best if they stayed out of adventurous hands.”

Listening as Sean explained about the usual behaviours of the kids, Devon paid close attention and made mental notes. Teenagers with developing superpowers. That's all they were. Just like he had been at that age. Treat them exactly the same as the kids in the school at home, but be ready for things to get pushed harder than he was used to normally. It would likely take some time for him to adjust and get used to it, but with the passing minutes Devon began to feel a little more positive. Sure his take off had been rocky to say the least, but that didn't mean it would always be that way. He'd faced the storm without the calm, now he just had to ride it out to the clear waters on the other side.

When Sean said that he didn't have to worry any more a little extra of the weight was lifted off the Brit's shoulders. Of course not worrying would be far easier said than done, but it was a very promising start and meant he could properly focus on his teaching, and indeed his life, without any undue distractions. “I know I should have gone to someone sooner, but...” He gestured vaguely in the air with a hand. “I wasn't sure who to go to, or, y'know, what I could have said.” Or if they'd have believed the truth of what had happened. “I really do appreciate your time, you've been a massive help.”

Sean's admittance that he never turned down bakery items caused a more genuine smile to cross Devon's lips and coaxed a soft laugh from him. The sound was not unpleasant, far lighter than the nervous release of tension of earlier. Devon knew he would bring some kind of thank-you gesture, not so much to repay the kindness Sean had shown to him but because he believed it was the good, proper thing to do. The world was full of crap, it was always right to try to bring a little joy into it when you could. “I'll definitely keep that in mind. Well, for when I've got access to a real kitchen anyway.” The sooner he got out of that crummy little temporary apartment and into a real house, the better.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean nodded to demonstrate his understanding. “When I first worked here, there was a pair of students who caused trouble for newer teachers. They were fine on their own, but they had a one-two-punch quality that could be overwhelming. Being overwhelmed by that type of conduct isn’t a weakness; it’s just part and parcel of being someone who cares and is trying.”

The telepath nodded again. “I think that’s a good idea. Yvette can have locks added to the drawers; you just have to fill out a form.” The Headmistress would certainly spend the summer break reviewing requisitions and making improvements to facilities for when students and faculty returned.

“But it can be difficult,” Sean supplied for the younger man. It was difficult to find the language to describe what had happened. It was difficult because the event was shocking and distressing. It was difficult because Devon was knew and he wasn’t familiar with the other staff; more than that, he also didn’t have any reputation, positive or negative, from which the other faculty could draw conclusions – so he might not be believed, or he might have been viewed as an instigator. After all, Devon didn’t know Sakiya’s reputation either. “You can always come to me.”

Sean meant that sincerely.

“Don’t feel obligated,” the telepath repeated. He would never turn down a muffin basket, but, as he had said, Devon didn’t owe him any sort of baked treats. Particularly weeks down the line, if and when he had access to a full service kitchen. As opposed to, perhaps, a kitchen the size and function of Josh’s when his partner had still lived in New York.

Sean offered the younger man a smile. “The good news is that the summer break is almost upon us. You can take the month and relax. Then you can jump back in with a clear perspective and new students.”

Sean, of course, would take the month to relax and then would have to return with his sexual education lecture. But, that was a month away.

[Devon Wentsworth]

Devon listened attentively as Sean talked about the two students that used team tactics to overwhelm new staff members. Of course there were groups like that in every school, and yes they could be massively overwhelming and disarming. “Yeah, that's something I need to get used to, I guess. The kids at the school back home could be bad but I was usually able to handle. I've just got to learn how to take in the superpower thing too.” The trick was learning how to work around their mischief and keep things productive and on track. This was a trick he clearly needed to work on, but knowing he had some support in his corner was a massively big help.

Devon nodded as Sean explained about the form needed to request locks on the drawers and cupboard containing the potentially perilous items. Whilst paper and chalks and the like were usually relatively harmless, he knew better than to leave the likes of strong glues, oil paints and brush cleaning solutions out where curious, prying hands could get to them. “I think I've seen them on reception, the ones with the numbered list boxes?” He made a mental note to grab a couple on his way out tonight and fill them in over the weekend to be handed over for approval on Monday.

A small smile crossed Devon's lips and he nodded as Sean filled in the gap. “Exactly.” It was such an ugly situation, and truth be told Devon wouldn't really have blamed Sean had the psychiatrist not believed him. He was a complete stranger, not just to Hammel but to the entire country, and for such an incident to occur within his very first week was not a promising sign at all. Difficult was a big understatement. If word of this got out, he dreaded to think of the effect it could have on his future here. He knew that now he had to prove himself to be better than events so far had shown him to be; and damnit, he would!

Dismissing the no obligation comment with a wave of his hand, Devon spoke. “I don't. I enjoy baking, I miss it. It'll do me good to get back into doing normal activities.” He laughed softly. “Well, normal for me, anyway. It's all been a bit mad since the move over here, not had much time for the things I enjoy.” The eventual move to a new place, and of course the spoken about summer break, would be a massive help towards getting himself properly settled in this strange, vast country. Maybe he'd even invest in a new drum kit.

As Sean said that Devon could always go to him, the Brit smiled genuinely for the first time in almost a week. It was a relief to know that if needed he had someone he could turn to for help or advice, and he offered his hand out to the psychiatrist. “Thanks Sean. Though, no offence, I'm hoping I don't have to see you again like this too soon.”