The Unexpected (Every)

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Doc
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The Unexpected (Every)

Post by Doc »

"--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--"
<Every> She sighed quietly as she shifted in the chair, ignoring the stares that were gathered in her direction when it creaked. The pen in hand beginning to write once more as she filled out the forms required for new patients before she finished. It had been Nix's idea that she go see a shrink and after learning of Kirill's death and Nishaa shooting her in the head, she'd decided that avoiding didn't work any more. Even if she had to dance around certain details, she supposed Nix's suggestion wouldn't kill her.

The gunshot had gotten rid of the depression, the constant and overbearing sense of anger that triggered her stepfather's voice harassing her, pushing her over the edge of overloading. Standing up, she signed her biological name - Every Leighton - at the bottom and made her way over to the desk to set the forms down before returning to her seat. Hazel eyes moved around the room quiet, her lips pressed into a thin line as she questioned her sanity and crossed one leg over the other in wait.

"Arrive early, wait twenty minutes. Arrive late, wait five minutes." She murmured under her breath, bouncing her foot. Every was always one to arrive early, regardless. She didn't like making others wait, she didn't find the point of it. "I really hope this isn't going to be a waste of my time." She muttered at nothing in particular. At least it wasn't at the hospital, but at an office. Those she hated something serious. Not to mention, she knew Emilee was there and she really didn't want to run into that woman.

Doc: Jane, the receptionist, called Doc to let him know his next appointment had arrived. He glanced at his watch, noted the time and murmured, “Surprisingly prompt.” He closed his book and put it away. He cleared his desk of the excess of the files, records and papers. Jane said he was paranoid about people trying to steal information, but the truth of the matter was, he liked to present a certain look when meeting someone for the first time. He wanted to things to be in order and neat. First impressions could work for you or against you. An orderly office could be read as someone with nothing to do, or as someone who like organization and paid attention to detail, or paranoid, if you were to take Jane’s opinion. However he really wasn’t concerned with Jane’s opinion.

Judging by the promptness of the appointment, Doc presumed it was a business call. He let Jane handle all his appointments, and she had a habit of mixing business appointments with client appointments. Normally had he been arranging his own schedule, he would have grouped them together, in a logical manner, clients with clients and business with business. However Jane’s haphazard way of organizing his appointments made for a more refreshing day. He never knew what to expect. It kept his mind open to the realization that anything can happen at any time. He would never tell Jane this, she had a big enough ego as it was, the last thing he needed was her rubbing it in. Giving the office one last look to assure himself that everything was in order, he headed out to reception.

Stopping by Jane’s desk, she silently handed him the clipboard with the documentation and information on it. He scanned it briefly, before keying in on the name. He immediately looked out into the waiting area. It was her. “Thank you Jane.” He uttered quietly, as he stepped back toward his office, “Ms. Leighton, please come on through.” His face showed no outward emotion apart from passivity. Inwardly he was intrigued. All his previous interactions with Every, were coolly polite as her eyes would promise an extremely painful evisceration should he step one foot out of line. What did she have on her mind?

<Every> She supposed there were many reasons that she didn't entirely like resorting to her last resort. The last Psychologist she had seen had been a woman named Maria, who considered her dislike of loss to be a large part of why she stayed distant. Every had told her that anyone could have said as much, and their sessions hadn't gotten very far. Losing her father had been damaging and the woman hadn't been very prompt when it came to well, much. It was probably contributed to the alcohol that B.J. had mentioned was stored in the woman's desk one evening. Watching the receptionist, Every leaned back slightly and set her cheek against her palm after her elbow pressed into the arm of the chair.

The door to the office opened and her hazel eyes drifted to it, disbelief registering momentarily across her features before it slipped back to its normal expression. Of course she would end up as his patient. When her name was called, her jaw tightened just enough and she debated once more about canceling her appointment as she stood. Every considered her thoughts about Doc, she usually just shot looks at him, but she didn't particularly mind the man over all. But, she'd never actually spoken to him. "Hello Doc." She tucked her hands into the pockets of her jeans, black as usual to avoid blood stains. The greeting polite, but quiet as she walked. "Never thought you would be one to have a day job." The teasing note was added as a matter to hide her discomfort.

Not many people knew about her, nor did they know about her past - Lia and Micah were probably the two that knew the most, and she didn't speak to either much any more. Lia had grown distant, but the two would always be considered sisters due to their connection. Micah... well, that one was tricky. Simply put, Every didn't remember why they were fighting. She remembered being slammed against a wall and the fury, but the reasons had escaped her. But, she didn't think Doc would be one to spill and gossip, and so, she seemed to relax just a bit as her arms folded in front of her chest. "I didn't realize you were here. Otherwise I would have gone elsewhere with my referral."

Doc: Doc nodded briefly in reaction to her words. The word ‘referral’ told him this was a patient or client versus a business opportunity. “I dabble in quite few fields of business.” He gestured to the chairs. “Please, have a seat..” His mind was still running through the iterations of the different reasons she may be here to see him. Every and Phoenix were close, but once she said ‘referral’, he knew she was not here at Phoenix request. One down. He glanced again at the clipboard. It didn’t tell him much. Name, date of birth etc, all things that may or may not be true. Theirs was a world filled with deception, especially when you the help of a professional outside their ‘kind’. He noted the name of the referring Doctor. He wasn’t personally acquainted with them. He would have to research them later.

There were two chairs facing each other. She could have her choice. There was one chair facing the office door, and one chair with it’s back to the door. The choice of chair would be telling in itself; it was one of the reasons he let the client choose. He shut the office door, and waited for her to get settled, then he sat in the opposite chair. He relaxed back in the seat, completely at ease, linking his hands together and resting them in his lap. He decided to proceed as if they were not known to one another, because for the most part, they were not. Yes they shared the occasional hunt and kill, but until today, he had not known her last name was Leighton, or that she even had one. But then again, that too could be a lie, merely for the purpose of fitting into the human world.

“I am Dr. Charles Nilson. I am not a Psychiatrist or a Psychologist. I am a surgeon with a minor in counseling. I do consulting work with other surgeons and I also counsel patients. The majority of the counseling I do, is in regard to the aftermath of their surgery. I am called in, as a surgeon, on trauma cases. In such cases, the trauma to the body also leads to trauma to the psyche, and patients find it helpful to speak with someone who knows what they have gone through. I do counsel others, if they have a specific issue that they desire to be worked through. Anything, said here, stays here. Confidentiality is paramount for the success of the client.” He paused, “That being said, how can I help you Ms. Leighton?”

<Every> It was from habit that she almost corrected him, to use the name Andras rather than Leighton as she had changed her name the year previously to match the facade that she was Micah's adopted daughter. Her records down in California did not reflect the change, just yet. Her lips remained together as she took in each detail. As he mentioned taking a seat, she glanced at him and then at the chairs before selecting the one that would put her back facing the wall, her front facing the door. "Thank you." Every sat down, pulling her hair over one shoulder as she did so before leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. Despite being in company with a faction mate, her hand moved automatically where it would be able to access the knife kept up her sleeve from habit.

Her files were her real files, she had nothing to hide even as a vampire. She had every intention to return to school and continue her education in Criminology at some point. She did have forged documents for other activities, but for all sense of purposes until she looked too young for her age, it was easier to be herself. After all, the fact she hadn't been herself as of late was the reason she was there. Every listened to Doc speaking, considering what the other had directed her here for. There had been quite a bit of trauma done, but of course, her other doctor didn't know even an eighth of it. "Are the limits of confidentiality still in play here although we both know that yes, in the nearby future I am going to want to harm someone?" She lifted an eyebrow, knowing that in the regular sessions, that the knowledge of belief was something that healthcare professionals were obligated to report.

Leaning forward, Every debated on what to say. "A friend of mine suggested that I seek professional counseling as I have been different personality wise. More reclusive." She thought about Nishaa, Kirill, and Reanna. Then Micah. "It has lead to tension between myself and others, and while I am not entirely aware of why because I recently received a gunshot to my head that has left certain things unknown." She didn't sit still for too long, always anxious and once again, Every leaned back. She uncrossed one leg and recrossed the other. "I have also had severe abdominal surgery last year and a man broke into my apartment and stabbed me through the heart." She thought about Pratt in anger, "As well as have had a recurring amount of anxiety caused by a fight with a man I trusted above all else when he grabbed my throat as my stepfather," She motioned at the old reports where she knew there were notes on former physical abuse and how she was a suspect in the murder of her family, "used to. To the point I am continuously hearing the man harassing me when he is six feet underground. So, that would depend on what you think you can help with, Dr. Nilson."

Doc: He listened patiently and attentively as she laid out her issues as she saw them. He found it interesting that a friend suggested she seek counseling because she was different. What usually led a person a counseling was their own belief that they needed help. So the question became, did she feel she needed help and prefered to lay the idea on that of a friend, to assuage some inner turmoil? Or did she agree to come merely to humor the friend. And if it was only because the friend suggested it, would this friend be human or vampire? And if human, was it merely a perfunctory visit to say ‘yes I have complied with your wishes’? Or if the friend is vampire, was the change in personality that obvious and could there be really wrong, or was the friend over reacting to the normal reactions a person can go through when they have had traumatic instances? Needless to say, Doc was curious.

“First things first. In your specific case, things will remain confidential. You and I both know, that regardless of whom you may or may not harm, human authority will be not allowed to know of your ‘existence’. Therefore any conversation we have regarding harming, killing, sacrificing another person and or being will remain confidential.” He paused, “However because we do move in the same circles, I would prefer, if you are speaking about a faction mate, give them a code name. I will not break your confidence, but for my benefit, ignorance can be bliss. If this is a deal breaker, I understand. If you do wish to move forward with counseling, are there any specific taboos, that you do not wish to discuss or entertain?”

<Every> She listened and gave a nod of understanding. Every didn't plan on giving names, anyway, as she didn't want it to conflict relationships and after a specific incident with one previous individual opening their mouth, she really didn't particularly trust when it came to certain things. "I figured as much, but it didn't hurt to ask." She removed an elastic band from around her wrist and pulled her hair back into its usual low ponytail, then. The question didn't catch her off guard and she was quiet for a few moments as she considered it. Jesse was an individual that she had told quite a bit about her past during a rant without realizing it and it had made her feel a bit better, but, she wasn't one to talk about what bothered her. The 'abdominal surgery' had been the result of Micah tearing out a fadebeast at her request, but was it that or her former relationship bothering her?

"No." She finally spoke, unsure, but deciding that Doc hadn't done anything to receive her distrust. If something did get out, she didn't particularly care, but it was that matter of trust that had her not walking out the door. "If I get uncomfortable, you'll know and I will ask for a few moments to calm or ask for us to move on, but at the second I cannot think of anything that will bother me." She tapped her foot, the soft chime of a silver charm connecting with other on a hidden ankle bracelet being heard. Sitting up slightly, she removed her jacket and put it on the back of her chair, pulling the sleeves of a dark blue blouse lower over her arms and exhaled. "I do have to say this is a last resort as I..." Her lips pressed into a thin line, clearly uncomfortable with her words, "I've asked for help elsewhere and it didn't get me anywhere. And while I'm aware of the fact there are others that I can talk to and that I'm close to, I am overwhelmed and the urge to escape to another location is stronger than I prefer to admit."

Doc: He watched her as she spoke, in the time he had known her, she had never really exhibited a wide range of emotions. She seemed subdued at best, and grim at worst. She wasn’t someone he would say had an easy smile. Quite the opposite in fact. She seemed, a very serious person, introverted person. However her words now, made him rethink those judgements. It was true, he didn’t ‘know’ her, rather it was more fair to say he knew ‘of her’. In this instance, it would actually work out better for both of them. There were no preconceived notions based on innuendo or rumors that he had need to forget, thereby allowing him to focus on what ‘she said’ versus what ‘he knew’.

“You say this is your last resort, that you have asked for help elsewhere. Earlier you mentioned that a friend suggested this. I am getting mixed signals.” He unlinked his hands and gestured lightly. “Do not take this as a criticism, because it is not. We will use that as a starting point for our plan of action. First we will ascertain why you are here, what you hope to gain by being here, and lastly we will work to make your hopes reality.

“So with those three things in mind, let me tell you what I see. If what I see is erroneous, it is better that we discover this sooner rather than later. I believe on the one hand, you want to understand something that has happened in your life, something that refuses to go away. You want to move on, but are at a loss as to how because you feel that event or thing is holding you back. On the other hand, a friend is concerned about you and your your change of personality. I don’t believe you feel that you have changed so much that it warrants being addressed professionally, you want help in the other issue, so are obliging your friend in a roundabout way. Am I correct?”

<Every> She listened, replaying things through her mind quietly as she tried to pinpoint what could be her issue before looking at Doc. Her expression remained fairly blank, calm as she mentally charted out what she had said. At the mention of not taking his words as criticism, her eyebrow lifted to show she wouldn't have any way. "Dana suggested I seek someone to talk to a while back because I do not like dealing with things that get under my skin. I avoid and wait for them to away." Dana, of course, was Phoenix, who had gotten to witness one of her less finer moments. "But its not just her who has mentioned a change in me, as Holden had previously." Her eyebrows furrowed. She tried to think back to her fight with Micah, but was unable to as it just seemed like a blank spot.
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Re: The Unexpected (Every)

Post by Every »

"--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--"
<Every>"For the most part, I believe you're correct. I don't think I'm different, but under times of emotional stress and discomfort I have been know to shut down and recluse." For the longest time, that was always the easier way to handle things. "I've been told that even for a shadow, however, that the amount of needing to figure out and staying to myself has become ridiculous." She sighed. If there was one thing that she did when she was confused it was obviously talk in circles. "I asked for help, was called a cowardly ***** and because I was overwhelmed, I ran to escape the one causing the stress."

Doc: “First let me say this. There is no dishonor in asking for help. We are not perfect. We all have our faults and foibles that we must bear. And if asking for help, aids us in bearing those faults and foibles in a most just or less abusive manner, then by all means we should ask for help. Most people do not find it easy to ask for help. I do not. I know that I should be open to help, more than I am. I am a proud person. Being prideful can be a detriment.

“You have asked for help in the past and been rebuffed. It is natural that. now, when you are under stress you wish to lock yourself away instead of seeking help or the comfort of others. A certain amount of solitude can have a rejuvenating effect on a person. Too much solitude can have the opposite effect. As with everything we do, we need to do it in moderation. This brings us back to our plan of action, to identify why you are here. Why? In broad strokes, you are here to find the tools to deal with situations that make you want to shut down.

“Everyone handles stress differently, and it may take a while to find that precise set of tools that helps you focus on the positives rather than the negatives. My supposition is that once upon a time, you found meditation beneficial in dealing with stressors. And over time these periods of meditation became periods of solitude. Instead of focusing on positives, forgetting everything made it easier for you to cope until things died down.” He looked at her to see if that struck a chord with her.

“Time and circumstances change us all. The trauma you faced in being turned is nothing to take lightly either. It can have long reaching effects, we do not know all the ramifications it can have. Coupled with your other traumatic injuries of recent times, there is no question you have had stress. And meditation alone is probably not going to help you as much as it may have in the past. Also, because you do tend to lean toward solitude, I would like to see you chose a more social way of dealing with stress. But nothing huge. Small steps.

“How would you feel about starting with the man that is haunting you? Your stepfather? I think you would find it beneficial to talk about him, in a safe environment, where there will be no chance of repercussions.”

<Every> It wasn't as much as a matter of pride when it came to asking for help as it was wanting to not burden anyone. For years, aside from Lia, Every had no one and she'd been okay with it. She kept to herself, did her schoolwork and that was that. She didn't bother replying to it or correct him, as Jesse had once told her something similar and someone had told her that it wouldn't be a burden to those that cared. The chord had been struck, however, as he mentioned that it could have been intentional with memory loss and her hazel eyes glittered in mild annoyance as she gave him the look that he was familiar with. She had done it once, with Hadrian, and then the bandage had been ripped off.

"I was shot in the head a few days ago." She pointed out, but she knew he was right as she shifted in her seat. Her arms folded in front of her chest then, creating a physical barrier between the two as he continued to speak. At the mention of medication, her eyebrow lifted once more. It could to a degree, she knew, depending on the dosage. "That can be argued... but I have never really been fond of medication to begin with even while my heart was beating." Every thought about the toxic gas traps and poison chemicals that could easily make her ill depending on the dosage. There was a reason she didn't enjoy stepping into them. "Certain things can still cause a reaction in my system, haven't wanted to test the boundaries of what." She explained with a frown.

A more social way of dealing with stress. Every pondered on it and gave a small nod of her head. With the approaching holiday season, she had to plan things again anyway. Phoenix liked girl time, she had Nishaa and Reanna to see if they'd like to blow off steam... The thought of Kirill caused her heart to twist and again, she shifted her weight in the seat about the same time Doc mentioned her stepfather. "That would be fine." She thought about Dylan, about the way his head had looked and then lifted her gaze to her faction mate, "What about it?"

Doc: “I was unaware you were shot so recently. Should this session start to be overly taxing, and you need to stop, let me know.” Doc looked at her. She seemed so flat, except for ‘negative’ emotions which she seemed to show much easier. Annoyance, irritation, sadness and perhaps even regret, were all emotions that readily played out across her face. But no positive emotions. No smiles, smirks, grins or playful endearing emotions had he seen evidence of. His immediate thought was that she was depressed. But they would get there eventually. For the moment he wanted to know what role the stepfather played, if any, with how she deals with stress now. “You said you still hear your stepfather, even though he is dead. When you hear your dead stepfather harassing you, what is he saying?”


<Every> "Things he used to mock me about as a teen, usually. Or things along the same pattern." She answered, thinking about it with a frown dancing across her lips. "Reminders of failure, that I mess things up when I allow myself to become too close to people." Every glanced away from him and studied the walls as she considered it. "Mocks me when I'm down." Her childhood hadn't been an unhappy one, but it hadn't been good, either. Rough waters were the best way for her to describe it. "I remember random snippets while I was sulking as some would say, trying to calm my nerves." Her hazel eyes glanced in the direction where Dylan would usually harass her from, to her left, slightly over her shoulder. In her old house, down in the living room from that same position from her favorite chair, she would have seen the man in his recliner that had one too many ketchup spills and smelled like beer.

Doc: “And do you believe him? That you do ‘mess up things when you allow yourself to get close?”

<Every> She frowned. "Occasionally, I believe I do." Every bit her lip, uncertain, "When alone, one doesn't need to worry about what they say, what they do. I was never really good with filters and I've hurt Holden because I never think before I speak."

Doc: Doc nodded slowly. “Alright, and do you believe that he told you this to make you stronger or to tear you down?”

<Every> "Holden? Probably to give me a rude awakening because he was being a prick that day."

Doc: “Then, doesn’t it stand to reason that he was lying to you? And that by believing him, you him a ‘type’ of power over you?” Doc looked at her evenly. It seemed to him, that the solitude she imposed on herself, was also a type of punishment. But he wasn’t ready to voice that observation yet.

<Every> Every let her shoulders lift and drop in a single shrug. She thought about it for a while, "I..." Her lips pressed into a thin line. "He means a lot to me, Holden does. I value his opinion, the way he is. He's given me what Dylan took away from me and enjoys reminding me of." Her neatly manicured nails of her left hand drummed on her arm. "But no, he likely wasn't lying."

Doc: “Why do you suppose, he believed that you messed up when you let people get too close?”

<Every> "Dylan?" She asked, in regards to her stepfather, "Because he was an emotionally and physically abusive asshole that enjoyed watching me stay away from people where I don't have to worry about what I say or how I feel."

Doc: “Dylan, your stepfather, went out of his way to hurt you. Would he be the type that would find amusement in watching you alienate yourself from people? If so, when you do ‘alienate’ yourself, for whatever reason, you are in essence allowing him to control even now. One way you could possibly quiet his voice, is to take his power away. Prove him wrong. Prove to him, that you can get close and not mess things up.”

<Every> "Perhaps." She spoke quietly, the urge to draw her knee up to her chest tempting as she considered it all. She thought about Lia, who had grown distant and the strain in her relationship with Micah. Even then, she could almost hear Dylan's braying laugh, loud and obnoxious like a donkey. "Some of it makes me wonder if its because I'm so used to losing others that I like to stay away."

Doc: “Ms. Leighton..” he paused and leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees Evee…” His voice softened and he spoke slowly, “It is said, that a new habit can be created in as little as twenty-one days.” He looked at her pointedly, “We have eternity, to get this life right. Twenty-one days is a blink of an eye in that aspect. A mere twenty-one days to go from closing yourself off, to creating a newer, happier Evee.

“Think about it. What is the worst thing that can happen to you.. if you put yourself out there to meet new people for twenty-one days? Worst case scenario.. one of them kills you. Less worse, one of them lies to you. However, what if .. during that twenty-one days, you find, that letting people close isn’t all that bad once you open yourself up to it? Then think what could be accomplished in the next twenty-one days.”


<Every> When Doc moved, Every looked at him and resisted the urge to tense. At least he didn't reach to touch her. She listened to him quietly, biting down on her bottom lip with a small amount of pressure as she did so. She'd learned a lot could happen in two years: she had died, had blood forced down her throat, loved and died twice more. She had family that cared for her and people that she would die for. "I'd like to see that happen." Every commented about the worse case scenario being that she was killed. Her thumb rubbed against the relic she wore, the ring suddenly heavy on her finger.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm really only chatty with faction and family." Trust was a funny thing, but he wasn't telling her to trust and she pursed her lips as she debated on it. The last time that she'd made friends out of her comfort zone... Well, Worthington proved to be worthless aside from a few select individuals. She still didn't know what the hell had happened to Superbia. Every and Prudence didn't talk much any more, hell, she spoke more with Helena more than anyone and that was because she was summoned without warning.

Doc: “Honestly Evee, I haven’t. You do tend to give off an aloof air that almost dares someone to set up and force you to interact. I now, understand this is most likely a defence mechanism. However to the innocent onlooker, it does not come across that way. So my suggestion would put the onus on you, to be the one to make that first move. To step out of your comfort zone, and attempt a brief social engagement someone. It could anyone. A shop attendant, the person you purchase fuel from, it isn’t about length of time either. It is you, recognizing you need to become more approachable, entering into a brief conversation, and repeating that exercise every day for twenty-one days.

“I myself am not overly chatty. But I know that in certain circumstances it pays to know people. Gertrude is the pharmacist tech at the drug store I frequent. I smile and ask how she is when I go there. I use her name, it makes her happy… and when I need a rush on something. She will do it for me, because she believes we are friends; and it has paid off for me.” He looked at her for a moment. “I believe that would be a step in the direction to wrest power away from the ghost that haunts you.Twenty-one days. Do you think you could do that?”


<Every> If she was truthful, Every didn't know if it was a defense mechanism or not. Usually only certain types of people attempt to break past it and for the most part, the ones that persist are worth it. Even those she lowers it near had been off to a good start. She lightly tilted her head back and forth, visibly showing that she was weighing pros and cons in her head. Did she think she could do it? Yes, it wouldn't be hard. Talking to others wasn't painful, but she did think more than half the city population were idiots.

"When you smile, it generally makes me think that you're plotting." She bounced her foot once more. It wouldn't kill her to talk to others when she was running errands. "Yes, I can do it for twenty one days and see if it makes a change." She still had things to plan for the faction, for Andras and maybe it could give her outside ideas. Leaning back in the chair, Every watched him, thinking. She didn't know what to say next.

Doc: Doc couldn’t help but smirk slightly. “I usually am.. or I am thinking something completely inappropriate.” He let the smirk die slowly. “So we are agreed, that you will attempt to open up and interact with a new person everyday for twenty-one days.” He leaned back, “I would like to see you in a week and hear about your progress.” He pulled a business card from his breast pocket and wrote his cell number on it. “You may already have this, but in case you don’t and you would like to talk.” He offered the card out to her.

<Every> "Which is generally why you receive glares of some sort." She watched him and lifted an eyebrow as he spoke. Twenty one people, twenty one days. She couldn't help but think it would be a pain in her *** sometimes, although that was her thought on most things at the moment. "Alright," She took the business card and nodded, "I do have it, its already in my phone. But, thank you." She offered him a small smile, "So, is your name actually Charles? I always thought it was Doc, funnily enough." She dug out her wallet, beginning to look for a place to put the card anyway.

Doc: “Yes it is. Doc is nickname that I was given in University.” He canted his slightly, “And Leighton? Is that really your’s?” He wasn’t quite sure that the twenty-one days would work to create a habit for her, but he was hopeful that if she did try, she would find that it easier to relax. The whole time she had been there, even though she tried to look relaxed, she was keyed up.

<Every> "It was, yes. Every Leighton. I changed it last year to Andras, made things easier." And, also because she found out she was related to Enver, she didn't want to use the name. "My records won't reflect the name change for a few more months." Her nails drummed on her thigh lightly, scratching the denim before she made herself stop.

Doc: Doc noted the drumming of her fingers, “Does talking about family upset you? It was not my intention to upset you.” He had been about to close the session, he didn’t like to overburden people on the first visit. But drumming reminded him of an anxiety driven movement.

<Every> "I don't like sitting still." She looked at her hand, "Never have. I used to run a lot, in school and outside of it." Her hand lifted to scratch at a black cat tattooed at the inside of her wrist. "And when I get stressed, it gets worse." She frowned, thinking about her family. "It does upset me on some level, but I suppose I never really had an actual home I could trust and stay in one place for long until Micah found me, so I try not to."

Doc: He nodded. He wasn’t sure he believe her. She believe what she said, but until he knew her a little better, the excess energy could be, what is commonly called ‘nervous energy’. A response by the body to offset the stress reaction from emotion. He smiled, “If it is any relief, I think we are at a good stopping point for your first visit. So rest easy. No more questions.”

<Every> She nodded, returning his smile with another small one of her own. "Alright, well, I'll get out of your hair. Same time next week, that is if we aren't called by Micah and Vel." Every stood, collecting her jacket and pulling it on. Afterwards, she pulled the ponytail out and let her hair fall back down.

Doc: “Yes, this time next week would work well for me.” He stood after she did, moving to the office door, he opened and held it for her. “Have a good evening Ms. Leighton.”

<Every> "You too, Doc." She dug her keys out of her pocket, tucking her wallet back in place as headed for the outside door after, planning to call and schedule the appointment. It would be easier, and a baby step.
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