Manuel Gets Some ... Therapy.

[x-empath.livejournal.com]

Manuel has his first session with Doc Samson.

Mad props to Rogue's player for socking the good Doctor for me. This log would not have been possible without her.



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The door is open when Manuel arrives. Samson is in a small, usually vacant office right next to Xavier's own office. The doctor has ensconced himself behind a large desk and is making rapid notes on a pad in front of him. He looks up when Manuel stops in the doorway and smiles. "Good afternoon. Are you Manuel?" He stands, looming large in the small room, and comes toward Manuel, extending a huge hand in greeting.

Manuel looks at the hand, then at the blonde man offering it. "I am." he says, making no effort to accept the handshake. "You must be Samson, yes?"

"I am indeed." He lets his hand fall without comment and steps back a pace. "Please come in. Take a seat if you desire and we'll get the formalities out of the way."

Manuel stopped to look around the small room, then strode over to the chair like he owned the Mansion itself. Taking his time, he arranged himself neatly and sank into the chair gracefully. ~Do you speak a civilized tongue?~ he asked in Castillian Spanish.

Samson raises an eyebrow. "I'm afraid I prefer to work in English. Some of the concepts upon which I rely don't carry well into other tongues. Will that hinder our work together?" He returns to his seat and takes a fresh pad of paper from his briefcase, setting it in front of him.

Manuel hrms. "I have enough English, yes." he says after a minute's thought. Reaching out with his power, he did an empathic sweep of the therapist, looking for moods and anything ... amusing ... in the man's current emotional makeup.

Samson's mood is a blend of professional concern and interest overlying a deeper sense of worry and a slight tension. He's a stable person, it would seem, quite calm but with the potential for stubborn determination. "Excellent. Now, the formalities. I take notes for my own reference unless it disturbs you that I do so. Everything that you say to me is confidential. If you choose to return we will arrange a time to meet once the Professor and I negotiate my house." His smile is pleasant but neutral. "Do you have any questions for me?"

"How much are they paying you?" he asks bluntly.

Samson is a little surprised but answers directly. The question makes him curious. "We're negotiating my fee at present. I have a sliding scale. I work free of charge in some cases. For lawyers asking for client analyses, my fee is three hundred dollars an hour. It varies."

Manuel shrugs. "I've been analyzed by ten-thousand-an-hour shrinks. They're generally stupid greedy lecherous old men, but they do have one saving grace."

"What would that be?" Samson leans back in his chair and folds his hands.

Manuel grins. "They like girls. Pretty girls." he says, looking to get a reaction.

Samson is definitely amused by this and doesn't try and hide it. "Should I presume from this that you're a resourceful young man, Manuel?"

Manuel lets his expression fall just a little. "Not as resourceful as I once was." he sighs. "Now I am dependant on the sympathies of others."

"That's a hard place to be." Samson seems genuinely sympathetic, ignoring the drama. "And yet here you are. What can I do for you?"

"Well, that depends. Is there anything I can do for you?" he says, mirroring the question back.

"Well, you could tell me I'm right, boost my ego, and let me cure you to everyone's satisfaction so that I appear as the genius some people claim that I am," Samson says thoughtfully. "But I don't know that I'd find that very satisfying. I'd rather take the reality where you find me to be insufficient and refuse to return or the one where you'll be a challenge and I risk failing miserably in the attempt to be of any use to you. So. To that end, what can I do for you, Manuel?"

"You could, if I wanted you to." Manuel says. "Have you been briefed as to my gift?"

"I've heard other people's explanations of it. That does me little good in understanding what it's like from your perspective."

Manuel laughs bitterly at that notion. "I doubt I could explain it. I see emotions as colors. Each specific emotion has its own color. I also see threads that extend from people that show me what it is that they feel about." Squinting a bit, he looked at the good Doctor closely. "For example - that tie your wearing. It's one of your favorites."

"It is," Samson admits. "Can you tell why I'm wearing it today?"

Manuel shakes his head. "Doesn't work like that." he says, with some frustration. "At least, not yet. All I can tell is that you have an emotional tie to the tie." He then stops and smirks at his own inadvertant wordplay. "I like it too. It's a nice shade."

Samson looks down at the tie. "It's a theraputic tie. Really." He leans forward, looking at Manuel with great curiosity, trying in his way to put himself in the position of being Manuel, to get a glimpse of what it is to be him. "I understand that there's an involuntary or uncontrollable aspect to your mutation."

Manuel tsks, never at the best of times very comfortable with talking about his own failings. "You could call it that. I am what Ms Frost calls an empathic mirror. What you feel, I feel." he admits. "This is why I like your stupid tie."

Samson looks at the tie, then at Manuel. "Must be bloody irritating for you," he says bluntly.

Manuel looks as droll as he can manage. "You have _no_ idea." he deadpans.

"No, I don't. So, why don't you tell me." Samson picks up his pen and gives Manuel an expectant look.

"I know that I didn't have any opinion of your tie before I walked into this room." he starts. "But when I came close enough to you, I knew that it was my favorite tie, and that I'm curious, and worried a little bit about me, and a bit afraid, I think."

Samson nods and makes a few notes as Manuel talks. He's quiet and attentive and there's shades of genuine caring around him.

"Oh, now that's a very nice shade of caring there. Very pretty." he says, seemingly almost dazzled by the colors coming from the good Doctor.

"Mm. I'm glad it shows. Manuel, I understand that there's a room here that might dampen your abilities. Would you prefer to meet in there?"

"No, you like it in here." he says casually. "I don't like the chamber. It hurts me."

"Fair enough," Samson makes a note. "Do you think there's anything I can do for you, Manuel? Do you think you need to be seeing me?"

"I hope so." he says in a small voice. "I know how people feel about me. Nobody trusts me. Sometimes, when I'm all alone, that makes me sad."

Samson makes a few more notes. "As long as you feel that I can help you, and you're willing to work with me, I'll do my best. Do you keep a journal, Manuel?"

Manuel shakes his head. "Emma has suggested it, but my writing skills in English are still rather poor." he admits. "And I don't feel anything on my own. So if you feel you can help me, then I feel that you can help me."

"The journal is for your own reference. You can use Klingon if it makes you happy," Samson says dryly. "What is the range of your abilities. Can you go far enough from others to not be affected?"

Manuel smiles thinly. "So far, my range has been tested out to over a half-mile before I lose the link. I have to be able to see someone to affect their emotions, but the sensing has a farther range." he says, returning honesty for honesty. The contradiction inherent in his words never even dawns on him.

Samson nods and keeps writing. "If we found you a comfortable place to spend some time alone, how would you take that?"

Manuel stops to consider the thought. "Lonely." is the best answer he can come up with.

"Lonely's not a bad thing," Samson says, looking up for a moment. "It might do you some good. But, we can leave that investigation for a time when you feel you're ready to approach it. I'd like you to keep a journal, Manuel, and try and write in it whenever you can. What I want you to do is try and note three things. First, what you're feeling. Second, what you'd like to be feeling. Third, if you can, what you think others would consider appropriate for you to feel, if it differs from those things. Is that something you're capable of doing?"

Manuel looks confused. "I do not understand. Speak more slowly, or learn Castillian." Or Latin, or Basque...

"My apologies." Samson sits back. "Do you think that you could keep a journal of your moods? I realize that these are not /your/ moods so there is another aspect to this. I would also like you to try and write down, when you do take note of how you feel, what you would /prefer/ to be feeling at the time. Are you with me?"

Manuel stops to consider it. "I can do this." he says after a long pause. "Do you think it would help? And am I allowed to change moods I don't like?"

"I would like you to continue as you do right now, whatever that may be," Samson says after a moment's thought. "But please note if you make a change like that."

Manuel hrms. "I have been trying, as a favor to Emma, to not change the moods of people around me. Emma seems to think that I am a gigantic crybaby and that I need to learn to deal with the world as it is. This has not been going well."

Samson nods. "Well, I think you're in a particularly unenviable situation, Manuel," he says. "I wouldn't use the term 'crybaby'. Then again, my job is to change how people feel, or teach them how to do it themselves, throughout their entire lives, not just in my presence. So, I think I have a different perspective on emotion than most. I think you should attempt to adhere to Ms. Frost's request, but I would like you to report honestly to me on what is going on with that regard. It will make it easier for me to help you and it is strictly confidential."

Manuel nods, and then smirks. "You spend your entire life trying for what I can do with a thought. Only difference is that you can make a permanent difference, and right now I can't."

"Precisely." Samson makes another note on his pad. "So, Manuel, should I schedule you an appointment when I arrange my hours here?"

Manuel nods after a few second's reflection. "Yes, I think so." he says. "You feel good about my chances."

“I'll do that then. If you could keep the journal, as many entries as a day as you please, we can discuss your findings when I see you again." Samson offers Manuel a business card. "My number and service. I'm the only one who will hear your message if you leave one."

Manuel takes the card with a very practiced two-fingered grab, then tucks it into his breast pocket. "Do you really think that you can help me? I don't want to have to go back onto the drugs..."

"Yes." Samson is confident with overtones of caution and concern. "We'll do everything we can to keep you off the drugs and help you get to a place where you're comfortable with yourself and the world and the world is as comfortable with you as its limited understanding will allow. Fair enough?"

Fair? Sounds just about perfect. "Fair." he admits grudgingly. "Until next time, then. And wear a different tie."

Samson makes a note. "I'll do that." He rises to walk Manuel to the door. "Good to meet you, Manuel. I'm looking forward to next time."

Manuel stands up, and before he heads out the door waves to the doctor. "Sorry about the handshake. My power - touch is a far better transmitter of emotion."


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