SW: Please Stop Worrying, I'm (Not) Okay

[Appoline Meian]

((This thread is backdated to 4/27.))



This was bad.

Appoline had always tried to stay out of sight and out of mind. She kept her grades up, even when she hated her classwork and couldn't bring herself to do anything else. Even if her marks were slipping a bit recently, they were nowhere near horrible - no one should have noticed a half-dozen percentage points.

Likewise, aside from a couple recent interactions that didn't go as planned, she wasn't a troublemaker. Far from it, the gymnast preferred to keep to herself and avoid confrontation. Avoid most interaction, at this point, but again that wasn't unusual. She was shy - everyone knew that. Her parents knew more, that she was not treated well at her other schools and it had made her hesitant towards interacting with others her own age. Was she supposed to deny her instincts and force herself to make friends? Not here, or so it had seemed. No one seemed to mind her distant nature.

So, if she wasn't a troublemaker, and she wasn't allowing her grades to slip, why was she standing outside Dr. Sean Neville's office?

Her power training wasn't going well, for one; it never had. It was hard to train someone to control a power that was subconscious for one, and for another, it was equally hard to train someone who hated being a metahuman. Where all they wanted to be was normal. But... lots of students had trouble with their abilities, right? Was that really enough to have her sent down to the (effective) dean?

Anxiety nagged at the elder Meian daughter as she tore her intentions between knocking on the doorframe or simply standing outside agonizing over whether or not she should go in. He can hear me, I know he can. He knows I'm here. Should she wait? No, that'd be rude. Just knock. Knock. What are you so afraid of?

Everything.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean didn’t mind serving as the guidance counselor since Hammel lacked a proper one; and, while he wouldn’t have chosen to be the first-tier disciplinarian all factors equal, when the choice was between punitive detention and the option of self-improvement and community work, he opted for the second. So he wore many hats, in addition to serving as the entire mental health department, as the voice of reason when it came to sexual education, as the advisor to three clubs, as a chaperon for most events, and as a mentor to a number of the students. He liked the work, he liked to help the students and keep busy, and Hammel did compensate him well. However, the problem with having so many hats was that some students associated him with those hats rather than as a psychiatrist.

First and foremost, he was a psychiatrist. First and foremost, his duty was to the students and their mental health.

He had been concerned about Appoline Meian for quite some time, and the transition of her father back into the home provided him with the topic he needed to get his foot in the door with her. As such, he had called for her to make an appointment, and he had made a list of everything he wanted to ask about during this session.

When she knocked, he rose from the desk and opened the door, choosing to do this a bit more hands-on than he might with someone else. As such, he greeted her in the doorway with a smile. “Hello, Appoline; you’re right on time. Please, come in and make yourself comfortable.”

[Appoline Meian]

Eventually, she had knocked. After arriving early and fighting with indecision for what felt like hours, she knocked on the doorframe just loud enough to be heard. Her hand was shaking; all of her was trembling, actually. Dr. Neville as a person wasn't that frightening, not even intimidating. But his role(s) at the school? His power? His relationship with her parents? All terrifying for a girl who had a lot to hide, and a lot to hide from.

The door opening made her jump, and wide eyes stared up at the man who was more than a foot taller than her. She hadn't expected him to come open the door for her, and hastily lowered her mismatched eyes before he could take too much notice of the anxiety on her face. Calm down, he's being polite. Just calm. Down. Bowing at the waist, she stammered, "Th-thank you Dr. Neville."

Comfort was the least of her concerns right now, though the small young woman glanced over the room quickly as she walked in. Her shoulders tensed as the door closed behind her, but she refused to turn back despite her sudden feeling of being very very trapped. Make yourself comfortable - find a seat. Cmon! Any one will do! Nearby was a couch, and with almost painstakingly careful steps did the Japanese young woman walk to its center and seat herself. Her bookbag she set on the floor next to her booted ankles, and then pale hands that still shook carefully brushed out invisible wrinkles along the long pleated skirt.

Once she was sure that she looked remotely presentable, Appoline risked a glance up at the telepath. Just breathe. A deep breath, then, "W-what... may I ask w-what this is about, s-sir? I-I d-don't unders-stand." Why am I here? What'd I do?

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean couldn’t help the hats he wore, not while remaining at his job. All he could do was signal to the students that he cared, and that he wasn’t a dangerous individual, even if he held several positions of authority over the students in his role(s) at the Institute. Just as his powers didn’t make him dangerous, despite the prevailing anti-psychic bias that permeated society as a whole. So he always smiled and spoke gently, and, if he gleaned that a particular student would be amenable to it, he told them that he didn’t bite.

Taking in Appoline’s mannerisms and how she stammered, the psychiatrist chose not to tell her that. He doubted it would help. As it was, he was in a costume for today’s Spirit Week selection, having thrown up his hands and giving in to comparisons that students, friends, coworkers, and his own nephew had made for most of his life. Wearing a suit, as he considered that necessary for his day job, the psychiatrist had donned a bald cap to cover his typically thick brown hair, he had thickened his eyebrows using an eyebrow pencil to outline them, and he wore a tie and cufflinks with the X-Men logo on it.

Once Appoline had entered the room, he shut the door behind them to provide privacy. Then he waited for her to seat herself, and, upon seeing that she had opted for the sofa, he grabbed his file and notepad, a pen, and his coffee mug and joined her on the other side of the room, settling into one of the armchairs.

“You don’t have to ‘Sir’ me. ‘Doctor Neville’ or ‘Doc’ is fine.” Sir brought with it authoritarian connotations in which Sean didn’t believe and that he didn’t want applied to himself. As for why he sent for her, he added, “I wanted to check in with you. But you aren’t in trouble, and so you needn’t be nervous.”

If this were about a disciplinary infraction, the psychiatrist wouldn’t be as relaxed.

“You made a good choice, opting for the sofa. It’s the most comfortable piece in the room.”

[Appoline Meian]

The costume didn't bother her; everyone's costumes for today were actually pretty fun, though the teen herself hadn't wanted to participate. It was one more thing that would draw attention to her, and for someone who shunned the limelight as much as possible... well, that would have been counter-productive. So she dressed as she always had in a nice blouse and a long skirt, with her long hair down so that she could hide behind it if need be.

Not that it did her much good here.

Though Sean had been gentle in his correction, it had been taken as a reprimand. There was a mental flinch, though it was only really shown outwardly with an unsure look and a nod. "O-of course, Dr. Neville." One didn't call an authority figure by something they didn't like, after all - that never ended so well for most the troublemaking students she'd known. So, as long as he didn't want her to call him by his first name, Appoline would comply with just about any naming convention he wanted her to use.

"...I'm not?" That was strange. Students called to make arrangements with a psychiatrist had usually done something wrong, hadn't they? Or they were acting in such a way that made people worry. Had she done something to make people worry specifically? She hadn't thought she was being too overt in her anger, but... maybe someone had noticed.

The doctor's statement diverted her train of thought before it could go too far into puzzling that out, and the shy girl looked at the upholstered material for a moment before answering. "O-oh, thank you? It is v-very nice. Um... is it... have you had it a l-long time?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Unfortunately for teenagers and introverts the world over, often when one tried to blend into the shadows, one succeeded in achieving the opposite effect. Blending so often took more effort than one might expect, and, more often than that, the machinations were counter-intuitive. For instance, she stood out more by opting out of dressing up than if she had chosen an over-represented superhero and only put forth the minimum effort possible.

However, as Sean was neither the drama nor home economics teacher, and he didn’t advise the sewing club, he wasn’t here to provide her with costume tips. He could offer her tips for effective coping skills as an introvert, and, depending on the direction that their conversation took, he might find himself doing so before their session ended.

Although her surprise was both understandable and expected, the psychiatrist was quick to disabuse her of the notion that she had any reason to worry about disciplinary action. “You’re not,” he assured her, and he smiled softly with the barest touch of self-deprecation. “Teachers might send their students to me when they act out in class, but, first and foremost, I’m a psychiatrist.”

He was a psychiatrist, and, as a result, most of the students he called to his office had a matter he wanted to discuss, rather than detention to mete out.

Sean nodded a single time in response to her question. “A long time. I’ve only had to replace it once since I started working at Hammel.” And that had been the result of more than the typical wear and tear.

Yet, this sofa had yet to wear out, and so he never looked in catalogues for replacement furniture, but if it wore out before he hoped to find another of the same model.