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[Crane barely moves while tilting his head. His expression remains neutral and calm. Cold eyes continue pinning his subject to his chair. Empaths and telepaths alike lack the training and insight into diagnosing mental illness. No skill. No work. Only talent they never had to earn.]

Well, like I said, what kind of doctor do you take me for?

[His voice is drip, drip, dripping wet and cool. Too robotic as his mentor had shouted in one of their last arguments. He might pride himself on doing a through job, but he also prides himself on his efficency.]

Seven minutes by the way.

[Seven minutes left.]

Yeah, okay, you're right. You're a trained professional. But empaths and telepaths have merit too. Just different skills.

[And he'd die on that hill. Actually he quite thought the echoed and sustained eachother. Empathy had come in really handy in his aunt's work. But Crane? Crane was definitely not Phoebe. He lacked the emotion, the warmth and fire that were so Phoebe's trademark. Crane was the opposite. Methodical. Logical. Still, maybe he could help. Examine the situation without feelings that kept getting in the way. Crane brought his attention back to his breathing.]

Can I hyperventilate from doing this?

[One day he will teach this man the difference between skill and talent. Today he is instructing him how to breathe; the american education system teaches nothing these days.

He permits time to wander and answers after a moment.]

Well, you'll find out when you start breathing too quickly, won't you?

[In short, lose control of your breathing, then you'll see. But it likely won't happen if you listen and follow instructions.]

[Chris had no idea what the difference was between skill and talent. Because Wyatt? Had both, although it was more talent than skill. He had been surrounded by people with raw talent and had never quite distinguished what made skill different.

He shot Crane a dirty look, not quite sure if he was making fun of him or not. So he aired on the side of caution, and decided he was. Maybe he just wasn't asking the right questions and thus, wasn't getting the right answers. As usual. Still he took it out on Crane.]

What's the point of this?

[Crane ponders leaning forward but lets the idea die; his body remaining stiff and upright as he links his fingers together. He ignores the look levelled his way and keeps an emotionless facade. Perhaps now is the time to put the boy out of his misery.

Perhaps not.]

You'll find out in seven minutes.

[UGH, why was Crane such a pain in the ass sometimes? Chris rolls his eyes, continues with the look, and just, sighs.]

Fine. Seven minutes. I suppose I can just breathe for seven minutes.

[He didn't want to, but he could.]

[Some people cannot wait seven whole minutes. Others cannot keep quiet. More fidget and look away. Less rise and pace the room. Chris is filed under second and third; a tempestuous man burdened by the mind of a sulking teenager. He remembers holding his breath for more than seven minutes. He remembers the consequences of failing to keep silent and remain undetected.

One. Two. Four.

He observes his subject for the remaining three: assessing his performance, marking points of data, testing the data. Visible signs of relaxation. Visible signs of stress. Results to be tested later. He waits for Chris to talk.

Because while he could speak, he has chosen to offer the gift of his time and listen.]

Edited 2024-10-13 23:35 (UTC)

[Chris was annoyed. But, as he breathed, that annoyance seeped away, giving way to relaxation. It came back a couple of times, sneaking in when his mind wandered or he felt one of his charges emotions, trying to focus, and frustrated by just how hard it was. It was relaxing though, just taking a moment to breathe. Relax. He hadn't done so in far too long.

And now he kind of felt guilty about snapping at him.]

Sorry. I was frustrated and took it out on you. I--I think I get it now.

[Crane sits opposite. Looking from a distance, observing from a safe point. Everything would be nice and simple, were his patient to understand what this means. Everything about his future would be simple. But life is never simple and people will always hurt you.]

Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but no.

[He lifts a hand to quell an argument. His words are calm not curt; chosen to make an important point. On one hand, he loves pulling the rug out from beneath a person's feet. On the other, he does enjoy watching them learn. He enjoys it when patients make progress.]

You would be the first client to understand in a long time. Because were it so simple, I would be out of work. So. You will begin noticing your patterns but training your body and mind to act against instinct is hard work. You will fail. But it's a learning process.

[Now his smile brightens.]

I would hardly be a good doctor to cast you out without warning, would I?

[And just like that Chris was frustrated again, and he started to eye Crane almost suspiciously as he started wondering if he was yanking him around. And then, Crane continued talking, and Chris relaxed again. Okay, okay that made sense. It was super fucking obnoxious, but it made sense. Still, he frowned because he really, really had hoped it would be that easy. A session and bam! All done!]

I don't want to fail.

[Wow, perfectionist much? He realized what a nutjob he sounded like, and rolled his eyes at himself and stopped.]

Yeah, do you have any idea how hard this is when you have people literally in your mind and sometimes you cant figure out who is who? It's like an emotional migraine.... Not to mention sometimes a physical one...

Perhaps you should take some medicine.

[His gaze becomes cold as his thoughts turn towards the clinical. Or perhaps it hurts because it is the sort of pain one cannot medicate?]

I am more than aware this is difficult but try reframing your personal grievance towards your situation. What you struggle with is different to difficulty. It could be the fact you have opposition. Somebody else is challenging you. Be they your family. Be they your a friend. Or even your therapist.

What kind of medicine?

[Chris narrowed his eyes, not opposed to the idea but curious. He didn't have a problem with it, any more so than he had a problem taking an empathy blocking potion to prevent Phoebe from reading him. Or wanting to drug his parents with a lust potion. Cause and effect. As long as the medicine had the desired effect, what was the problem?]

You got me there. You're not exactly making this easy, but I guess that's your job.

[Family, friends? Yeah they hadn't made it easy either, but t hey weren't here right now.]

[Crane says nothing more about pills and poppers: medicine for weak bodies and malleable minds. He considers his advice as a private joke. But he regards it as a test of boundaries. This young man can rise to the challenge or fall short. He is simply curious and wishes to observe the result.]

Why wouldn't it be?

[His words seem final. Time is drawing to a close. His goal for today has been reached and now his work calls.]

But for what it's worth, I was here today. And I'll be here tomorrow.

[Or whenever their next session is.]

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