The Little Things Give You Away [Sean]

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse was in a good mood.

Last night had gone well. For having Gabriel bail on his training session, he’d found other ways to satisfy his growing need for destruction. Gabriel nurtured that side of him. Where Hammel failed, MSAD was succeeding. Jesse actually liked spending time with Gabriel’s organization. The people there understood him. Gabriel understood him. Unlike the Hammel saps. It really was a great routine he had worked out. In his spare time, he’d meet with Gabriel. He’d train, hone his powers for bad. He’d get in a few gunplay lessons with Reese and Lala. And he stayed the fuck out of Jacob Lawrence’s way.

In class at Hammel, he was a near-model student. Careful with his acting, just like Gabriel had taught him, he hadn’t reformed completely. He still mouthed off, but it was tapering off. In his mind, everything was linking together perfectly. He was getting better and better control of both his manipulations. His sessions with Dr. Neville appeared to be paying off. It wouldn’t be long before he fell off the radar, and graduated. His spying days for Gabriel would be over. He’d be a fully fledged member of MSAD. And he would be where he belonged.

Since starting his bi-weekly sessions with Dr. Neville, Jesse had calmed down a great deal. He was careful, though. Gabriel had taught him some tricks to avoid detection. For this to really work, Sean could not gain access to memories or thoughts about one Mr. Gabriel Underwood. If that happened, the entire plan would fall apart, and Jesse was not about to let that happen. In session, he was careful with his speech, careful with his thoughts. Today would be no different. Yes, he’d attacked someone yesterday. He’d been frustrated and angry. But he was better today. Calmer. He’d gotten it all out of his system. And as far as he knew, he’d gotten away with so-called-murder.

He headed down to Dr. Neville’s office at the usual time, his thoughts already under careful control. Everything about MSAD, about Gabriel, and about yesterday were safely buried for now, under more mundane thoughts and memories. What he’d done in class yesterday, flipping Horus off the dorms, doing his homework. If he had his way, no one was going to find out about any of this, until his job was complete. He gave himself one last check, to ensure he had nothing incriminating on his mind, he gently pushed open the door to Dr. Neville’s office. “Hey, Dr. N.”

Let the games begin.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

There was a bakery and delicatessen in downtown Pilot Ridge, which Sean had been patronizing for nearly twenty years. As a joke – and one that was closer to truth than fiction – the owner said that Sean had put their daughter through college. They had excellent baked goods and brewed a strong cup of coffee, and would make almost any sandwich one ordered so long as it was a reasonable request; in exchange for these services, they were relatively low-key in that they didn’t deliver. When Sean Neville placed an order with them, they delivered as a personal favor.

After the meeting with November and Sam, and in anticipation of his session with Jesse, he’d placed an order to get him through the afternoon; he needed his blood sugar at peak.

With a bit of food in him, he’d made notes to himself about what needed to be done, and he’d taken the time to send Claude a memo about Jesse’s discipline as planned; the Head Master had signed off on his choice. From then on, it was merely a waiting game.

When the clock struck the hour, and it was time for their usual session, Sean had calmed considerably. He sat with the remains of his lunch at his desk and a fresh cup of coffee, reviewing Jesse’s file in anticipation of his arrival.

Sean, too, was skilled at hiding his thoughts; in fact, he had thirty-six years of experience more than Jesse had at this particular game. He wished to trap the young man into his answers regarding the incident, such that there was irrefutable evidence. Not that he doubted November; no, he was certain of the truth of the matter, and that would assist in this. He didn’t expect to make a major breakthrough with Jesse, he hadn’t expected that even when the sessions began, but the boy had been better-behaved. He’d expected compliance.

Sean would settle for teaching him that this was unacceptable.

When Jesse arrived at his office, he greeted him with a feigned smile and gestured at the sofa on the other side of the room. “Hello, Jesse. Timely as always, I see.”

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse had no idea what was coming. Granted, even if he was a telepath, Dr. Neville was good. Jesse had to give him that. Gabriel had said the psychiatrist had had an eye on him back in his school days. Jesse had learned to be exceedingly careful when it came to his thoughts around Dr. Neville. He didn’t want to let a single thing slip. So far, he seemed to have a handle on it. It seemed to be working. He didn’t think that the doctor suspected a thing. If he did, he wasn’t letting it slip. Jesse wanted to keep it that way.

He was casual as he entered the room, taking note of the psychiatrist’s body language. Of the almost genuine smile. He didn’t think Sean had any idea of the events of last night. He didn’t think November would be dumb enough to go crying to one of the adults. In his mind, he was safe. Nothing was going to touch him.

The blonde boy flopped onto the couch, flicking his bangs out of his eyes. His thoughts were calm. A few idle ones about pending homework assignments. Not once did Gabriel Underwood’s name or face cross his mind. He fiddled with a string on his jeans, not meeting Dr. Neville’s eyes immediately. But when he did, he was smiling in a somewhat cocky fashion. “So what’s goin’ on today? We gonna play mind games? Cards? Hey, can we play poker?” He liked trying to throw the psychiatrist off track. Not that it often worked, if ever. But it didn’t stop him from trying.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean took one last sip of his coffee and then set the mug down on his desk. He watched Jesse’s body language, which was confident, cocky as always. He behaved as though nothing was amiss, which told the psychiatrist two important facts. The first: that Jesse was unaware that Sean knew what had occurred the day before, which was to be expected. The second: that he didn’t consider it to be a problem, which was also expected but disappointing, and all the more reason that this had to be addressed.

Slowly, however. There was no reason to rush this. Sean could be a most effective spider, and unknowingly, Jesse was a fly caught in his web. If Jesse thought today would be fun and games, Sean was happy to let that delusion continue for a few more minutes. He would get the information he want from Jesse one way or another.

Opening the top left drawer of his desk, he removed a deck of Bicycle playing cards. Rising from the desk, he crossed the office and sat in the armchair across from the sofa, setting the cards down before the blond boy. “Name a game.”

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse was cocky, yes. He was confident. Why shouldn’t he be? Things were all going his way. He was going to get away with what he’d done last night. He would be seeing Gabriel soon for additional training. He was in a good mood. Well, good by his standards. He just smirked and leaned back, kicking his feet up on the couch. This was a place he’d come to know very well. They’d played this game enough now. He knew to keep his guard up, and his thoughts careful.

Fun and games that was exactly what Jesse wanted. He wanted to keep more serious subjects at bay. He’d already made it clear. He didn’t like talking about his father. He didn’t like talking about relationships. He didn’t like talking about... well... much of anything, really. But he’d tried. He’d let Sean pry a little, but some days he just couldn’t handle it, and he shut down.

When Sean put the cards down, Jesse smirked and fingered the cards. He liked to play poker with his older brother at home, betting whatever they had handy. Snacks, allowance. “Poker? Betcha can’t beat me.” Oh he was cocky. And that attitude wasn’t going anywhere fast.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean settled in the armchair, making himself comfortable; they had an hour, and he wouldn’t need nearly that long to get to the heart of the matter. Jesse could remain in his false sense of security for a couple of hands of poker; in fact, that would be quite useful. Over the decades, Sean had found that one could learn quite a bit about others by watching them play cards.

Reaching for the deck, he opened the pack, pouring the cards into his hand. He pulled out the jokers and the rule card, and then began to shuffle. He, too, was skilled at playing cards, had been playing since long before Jesse was a consideration for a potential person, let alone had been conceived with his mother and father choosing names for the anticipated bundle of joy. And playing against Claude during nights in had taught him to be all the more careful, considering how Claude always had luck on his side. To compensate, Sean knew how to count cards, although he never advertised that fact; it was one of the two reasons he was banned from most casinos. The other reason was more narrowly prejudicial.

As he shuffled, he asked, “Stud or draw?” He wouldn’t address the boy’s challenge, since he didn’t believe in gambling outside special occasions, and certainly not with a student. Besides, Jesse had nothing he wanted, and what little he needed from the boy, he would soon have.

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse was very comfortable at the moment. His thoughts were carefully layered, the most important overshadowed by the more mundane things on his mind. In fact, now he was thinking about playing poker with Keith, betting chores when they were younger. It was Keith that had taught him how to play. It was his father that had taught him how to win.

The blonde mentally winced, navigating away from thoughts about his father. He had no place in his life now. He’d turned his back on him ever since he’d attended Hammel. He knew what would happen if he went home. His father liked the idea of power. He would attempt to find a way to use his son. Which was exactly why Jesse had no plans to go home. Not to that. Again, he shifted away from thoughts about his father, instead busying himself with watching Dr. Neville shuffle the cards. This was going to be fun. He was good at cards, and he was looking forward to trying to beat the psychiatrist.

Anything, to get out of talking.

“Draw,” he said lazily, brushing his bangs back again. Draw was much more fun. You could change everything with the right cards. “C’mon, let’s go.” He flicked his fingers, obviously eager for the game to start. The sooner his mind was on the game, the less work he’d have to do in keeping his memories locked up. If he had his way, this session would be just like any other.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

It was apparent that Jesse had been practicing his mental shielding; Sean was familiar enough with students generally and Jesse in particular to notice mental shielding, and the boy’s thoughts were fairly bland. Nothing like the twisted ball of rage he usually was. The psychiatrist made a mental note to discuss the topic with his trainer at a later time, when Jesse was in detention and after Anya had paid a visit. Because Jesse had a briefly pleasant memory about poker, which had then even more briefly deteriorated into thoughts of his father – that was familiar, and far more expected; they’d discussed his family a bit and Sean recognized several causes and effects in stories Jesse told when compared to his behavior – the telepath chose not to probe now, to merely let it go.

Draw poker was Sean’s preference as well, as it gave more for the players to do beyond mere betting. And since there were only two of them, and Sean wouldn’t allow for gambling with a patient, with a student, stud poker was downright mindless. Each hand of draw poker also took longer, as there were additional steps. Deciding that five-card draw would be a good starting place, he finished shuffling, cut the cards, and began to deal. One for Jesse, one for himself, one for Jesse, one for himself...until each had five cards face down before him. Setting aside the deck – although keeping it close by as he was dealer – he picked up his hand and studied the cards. Counting only went so far in small games; far more was up to luck. “How many do you want?”

[Jesse Adams]

Gabriel’s private tutoring had given Jesse more than just one benefit. Not only were his powers really starting to blossom and grow, but his mental shields were getting stronger. He was more able to carefully layer and organize his thoughts and memories to avoid detection. Gabriel was teaching him the tricks of the trade. And he was listening. Learning. The last thing he wanted was for a single thought, a single memory, to slip through his fingers. If he did it in Dr. Neville’s office, he was so, so screwed. And Gabriel’s wrath was not something he wanted to be on the other end of. He’d seen it. It wasn’t pretty. It was akin to his father’s temper, and something he’d rather avoid at all costs. Ergo, he was not going to fuck this up.

Keith had taught Jesse a great deal about poker. Granted, typical older brother, he’d kept any kind of cheating to himself. Cheats, Jesse had learned from his father. While he didn’t know how to count cards, he knew a lot of other things. Like how to sneak peaks at the other player’s cards. As soon as Dr. Neville had the cards dealt, he picked them up and looked them over. It was a crappy hand, but he didn’t let it show on his face. “Four,” he mumbled, picking out the four he wanted to get rid off. Anything had to be better than this.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Once the cards were dealt, Sean set down the deck and picked up his hand, studying the cards. It wasn’t the best hand he’d ever dealt himself, but it was far from the worst; there was enough room for luck to let him win, so long as the cards didn’t have it in for him this afternoon, which he couldn’t rule out. This was why he tended to play conservatively, looking for sure(r) draws, albeit those that tended to have smaller payout unless he was particularly well-situated. In the end, it didn’t matter if he won by a deuce, so long as he won, and he preferred that to blowing the hand completely because of a big risk.

After studying his hand for a moment, he set aside three cards, laying them face down beside the deck, near Jesse’s discarded cards. He then dealt Jesse four, and himself three, studying the new ones for a manageable showing. Since there was no other conversation to distract them, and card games were notorious for idle chatter, it was fine to begin the questions. They were simple for now; so simple, in fact, to count as pleasantries if it weren’t for his meeting with November earlier today.

Whilst he, too, showed nothing in his expression, he asked casually, “How has your day been so far? And the day before?”

[Jesse Adams]

Sometimes, Jesse wished he could read people better. Studying Sean’s face as he looked at his cards really didn’t help him any. The psychiatrist seemed to have the poker face down to a science. He wasn’t so lucky. Being young, much as he tried to remain passive, his temper had a habit of getting the better of him. His father had told him a long time ago that winning was everything. It was something that had been ingrained on him from a young ago. He wasn’t about to ignore that now. He wanted to win. Especially against Dr. Neville.

Once he had his new cards, he studied them. Well. A pair of sevens. The rest was shit but hey, it was something. Enough to let a little smirk appear on his face. A single pair was better than nothing, which was what he’d started with. He moved his cards around in his hand before letting his gaze wander back up to Sean’s face, wondering what he had in his hand. The wondering didn’t last long, however, as the questions began. He shrugged impassively. “’S okay. Didn’t do much. Actually passed my history test yesterday. An’ I was gonna go down to Pilot Ridge to the mall last night, but... I was too tired.” Lies, all of it. Except passing the history test. “I’ve been training really hard lately. It’s exhausting.” While it was true he’d been working a little harder in his training classes, it was all for good at Hammel. His other training wasn’t quite as sunshine and rainbows as Hammel wanted it to be. But it was twice as exhausted. “An’ we watched a movie on evolution in science this morning. It was kinda cool. Do they thing metas are just evolved humans?” He was perfectly willing to derail the discussion any way he could. This counted.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean gave the boy a slight smile, one that wasn’t intended as humorous but to remind him that this was a friendly game, one that had no stakes, and thus there was no pressure. Of course, Sean intended to win, and glancing down at his cards, he felt he had a fair enough chance, given that he’d managed to draw his other nine, giving him three-of-a-kind. Setting down his hand, still face down because that was dealer’s prerogative, he said, “I call. What do you have?” Jesse could reveal his cards at his leisure. In the interim, Sean would address everything that the boy had mentioned as part of the past two days.

The psychiatrist had had his reasons for asking the question, which were two-fold. The first was to see if Jesse had any remorse about the topic, and as he’d expressed none verbally, nor in his surface thoughts to which Sean was unashamedly listening, he had the answer to that. The boy had no remorse, and was unwilling to think about it, which indicated that he viewed it as “no big deal.” This was troublesome. The second reason was strategic, in that he had wished to give Jesse the opportunity to come clean, and when he failed to do so, he had locked him into a lie. That lie was now added to the issues for which he would be disciplined. But that would come later.

He nodded, listening attentively. “What was the test on? The colonial period or later?” Sean played this game well, and he wouldn’t allow himself to be distracted, even if he, too, put other topics between the present moment and the inevitable outcome. “And no, they don’t think that metas are more evolved than everyone else. It’s an aberration, much like sexual orientation: it can pop up in any family, and doesn’t guarantee that meta-humans have meta children. We’re all intertwined, and always will be.” There was a brief pause, as he studied Jesse’s face. “What have you been up to in training?”

[Jesse Adams]

Sean’s smile went largely unnoticed (or ignored, it was hard to tell) as Jesse looked over his new cards. He didn’t care how ‘friendly’ a game it was. He just wanted to win. It would be difficult, he figured, playing against an adult, and a telepath at that (how handy a trick would that be for cheating?). But that didn’t mean he was about to roll over for him. Looking up at the call, Jesse arched his pierced eyebrow and laid down his cards, crossing his arms. “Pair of sevens.” If Sean had called, he was probably already losing. But that didn’t matter. He could make up for it later. There were more important things to deal with now.

Ever since his first encounter with Gabriel, Jesse had stepped carefully around Sean. He no longer really fought the man, unless they began to skirt topics he’d rather bury ten feet under than discuss. His father, the few people in the world he actually liked, they were all topics he wanted to burn and die. Anything else, he would answer very, very carefully. He’d remember the lies and mask them as truth. As for his so called remorse about the night before, it was simple. It didn’t exist because he wasn’t sorry. And he wasn’t going to be sorry, either. Because he wasn’t going to get caught.

The blond shrugged as he pushed his cards around on the table. “Nazi Germany. I did pretty good. Hitler was a dick, though.” Actually, Jesse thought that Hitler was a pretty cool guy, as far as leaders were concerned. He could relate what he’d done to now. Metas were now the persecuted ones. For now. “... Oh. I thought it’d be cool if we were the next evolution. Y’know. Like the comic books.” He wasn’t meeting Sean’s eyes. He knew MSAD’s position on metas. They were superior. And they always would be. “Lots. I’m tryin’ to learn how to extend the depth of my powers. I made some chick forget about a bad boyfriend the other day. An’ we’re gonna see today if it stayed altered.” Thanks to his additional training, he’d learned a great deal about his powers. But in class at Hammel, he was using them only for good.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

It didn’t matter that Jesse was ignoring basic pleasantries; Sean had the boy where he wanted him, and he could keep the veneer of civility for another moment or two before going in for the kill. Once Jesse turned over his cards, he revealed what was a moderate pair: sevens weren’t low cards, but they also weren’t royalty, and a pair was certainly not a great hand. However, it was often enough to win one round. Not this one. Sean turned over his cards, revealing a nine of diamonds, a nine of spades, and a nine of clubs, in addition to a king and a jack. “Three nines. One point for me.” He then began to gather the cards to shuffle and deal again.

Sean was usually inclined to attribute the lack of understanding of World War II and the horrors of the Holocaust to adolescence, and the lack of respect and information given in American schools. Particularly as the generation who lived through that horrible time was slowly aging and dying out. However, Jesse’s description was an understatement. “Calling him that doesn’t begin to scratch the surface.” There had been a survivor on Sean’s block when he was growing up; the stories he had heard never failed to send chills down his spine.

The telepath understood precisely what Jesse had meant, and he had an idea of where he’d gotten the idea. Not merely from comics, although the X-Men were a mixed blessing in their portrayal of those who were essentially meta-humans. It was the news, it was underground empowerment meetings which missed the point, it was family prejudices. It was all of it. However, he let the remark slide, focusing instead on the description of Jesse’s power use. He’d check into the veracity of his story later, as he had other matters to discuss; he also noticed that, again, Jesse failed to mention the incident with November. That was to be expected. “Did you ask her before you did that? Or did you do it without permission?”

[Jesse Adams]

Ever the innocent little fly, Jesse had no idea how stuck he really was. What was worse, the more he lied, the more he was caught in Sean’s web. He was cocky, and blissfully unaware of the trouble that was about to unfurl. His mind was more focused on the game of poker. A game that was not going well. His arrogant expression fell when Sean revealed his cards and took the point. “Sonofabitch,” the teenager muttered softly, mostly to himself. If nothing else, it would show that he wasn’t completely fixed. He was still quite capable of mouthing off. “Whatever. Deal.” While he waited for the shuffle, he tapped his fingers on the table. Patience was not something he excelled at.

On the contrary to many of his peers, Jesse had taken a keen interest in the Holocaust. It was so easily related to the ideas mere humans possessed about metas. Persecution, discrimination. They were a minority group, so often singled out by god knows how many people. Something like the Holocaust could fix it. The anti-meta groups might have a good idea of how to play that card, but what they didn’t know was that metas were not unarmed. They could, and would, fight back if push came to shove. These thoughts, he didn’t mind brimming to the surface. He was careful, and nothing about MSAD leaked through. Just idle thoughts about meta supremacy. Nothing incriminating. “Yeah, well, he was still a dick. And a shit leader. No wonder he offed himself.” Charming child, wasn’t he?

The world had so many different views of metahumans. Some embraced them, the healers, the more or less “harmless” powers. Some used them, like the military would employ speed, strength, and genius. Some feared them, like the anti-meta groups. Hammel told the students that they could all learn to get along. Such bullshit. He knew his own father both feared him, and wanted to find a way to use him. But Sean’s question brought him back to reality. He blinked and looked at him in disbelief. “’Course I had permission! I’m not stupid. I’m not gonna do it without it. I know what happens if I do.” Once again, he was playing innocent. No, he hadn’t done anything to November last night. Hell, he’d never even seen the girl, according to his story. “I did it in class. She said it was fine.” There was a touch of defense in his tone, and he eyed the psychiatrist carefully. This could get tricky. “Just deal the cards.”