promise of secret keeping aside, she can’t help the minute flicker upward of eyebrow in silent questioning ; though she’s quick to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he’s physically or mentally ill [ more likely the latter — most psychologists are, herself included. ] he may be a drinker, but surely not so completely reckless and irresponsible as to ingest an illicit substance in front of a student.
shifting her weight from one foot to the other — she still hasn’t been offered a seat, and thus doesn’t venture to take one — she ponders how best to answer his inquiry.
“ well, the official story is that i fell in love with my high school psych class. unofficially … ” she trails off, gaze dropping — features somehow mischievous and sheepish, verging on self-deprecating, all at once.
“ unofficially, i was in veeeeery much one-sided love with my high school psych teacher, as well as the class itself, if you can likewise keep a secret. that, and i’m acutely empathetic and probably halfway to crazy — if you’ll pardon my politically incorrect language. add a fascination with how an organ as comparatively small as the brain could produce the sheer depth and complexity of human experience, and … here we are. ”
pause.
“ i should’ve just stuck with the official version, shouldn’t i. ”
[he listens with a small sense of foreboding– he hopes to hell she’s not a repeat offender. yes, she’s pretty, and thus far has proven to be somewhat enjoyable. buthe can’t even envision a relationship with someone apart from his class. let along her. maybe it’s a little conceited that he finds himself worried about it at all. granted, he can’t see what even appeals about himself. there’s not much there. not with the depression and the “accidental” murdering he tends to do. or the fact that any time he feels anything at all is a miracle. ]
“ we all make mistakes.
let’s hope you learned
from yours. ”
[ james leaned towards psychology because he had problems emoting, feeling, projecting how he felt, after he murdered his father. he wanted to know why he felt no remorse, no regret, even as his mother crouched over his bastard corpse. he wanted to know why alan cormack tried to murder him, and in turn found himself beneath a blade. and why james didn’t regret a single second. he’s found his reasons. ]