Thursday early afternoon

[x-polarisstar.livejournal.com]

Lorna is in the library pulling books for her Phil class. Manuel walks in to find Psych books. She's scared. He's amused. Just talking but it's all quite cruel. Apparently, they both need more therapy.



The library was silent and empty in the early afternoon which suited Lorna just fine. She grabbed a book on Kant from the shelf and added it to the pile tucked under her arm. “Descartes, Descartes,” she muttered, perusing the shelf until she found a representative sample of that philosopher as well. She already carried Aquinas, Nietzsche and Plato. Or as she’d named them to her philosophy class before releasing them for the day, “Lots of dead white guys.” She continued to search for more of the same so she could start handing out assignments the next day.

Manuel came into the library, with the printout list from his Psych class - looking for material for the report he should have handed in two days ago. He was whistling tunelessly, and for some strange reason dressed normally save for completely bare, bandaged feet.

The whistling caught Lorna’s attention. Trotting out of the stacks, she started to set her books on an empty table as she glanced up to see who had joined her. She jumped in shock and the books tumbled to the desk with a loud bang. Her mouth formed a long string of swearing though she made no sound. The exit was behind him, she noted.

Manuel, for once, was taken somewhat by surprise by Lorna's reaction. Not seeing her at first, he turned around until he caught sight of her. "Oh. Good afternoon." he said, voice friendly and open. "Do you know where the Psych books are?"

She managed to unclench her jaw enough to utter a single word, “There,” and pointed at some shelves close to the fireplace. Even without empathy, she was radiating tension and fear. His tone of voice hadn’t served to calm her in the slightest, only to make her more wary.

"Thanks." said Manuel. "Got an assignment on the physiological and psychological aspects of the pleasure cycle." he says with a smirk. "Guess I'll go do my research."

She flinched, certain he was mocking her. “What the hell do I care what you’re studying?” she snapped.

Manuel shrugged. "You're a TA, you're in the library, I thought you might be available to, I don't know, help?"

“I teach philosophy and mythology. And you’re the last person I want to help. Ever.” Why wasn’t he moving? If he just went to the books he needed, she could escape and be quietly miserable someplace else.

"Interesting courses. I had relatives who lived in Rome at the time of the Caesars," he said with amusement. "And that's not very nice. You shouldn't be so mean to students. Show some discipline."

Lorna dug her nails into her palms and told herself to remain calm...or at least non-violent. Discipline? Had she run screaming from the room yet? How much more discipline did he think she needed? “Shut the hell up.” She considered not shouting it a marvellous display of discipline.

"You're panicking. Why is that?" he asked her curiously, tilting his head and staring at her like an entomologist examines a bug on a board.

“I’m not panicking.” Not quite anyway. “I don’t like you. I don’t want you talking to me.”

"Whyever not?" he said with a smirk. "I'm harmless, remember? Dampened." he said, showing her his bright, shiny, metal dampener bracelet.

She stared at the dampener like one checks the chain on a rapid dog and took another step back, “Go do your research and leave me alone.”

Manuel smiled at Lorna sweetly. "But I am." he smirked. "You should be nicer to me, after the gift I gave you. You couldn't handle it, true, but you enjoyed every second of it."

She backed up several more paces though he hadn’t moved toward her, “Shut. Up.” This was becoming something out of her nightmares—the ones she didn’t know to fear until she awoke.

"But why? There's no need to fear me. I just wanted you to be happy. You needed some happiness in your life. Ah, wait. I remember now. I got punished for trying to be nice to you." Manuel said. "I suppose I should leave you alone, but you should really talk to Samson about that phobia you're developing. I would help you, but unfortunately ... I cannot."

“I don’t want your help!” she said a bit too forcefully, reminding herself as much as reminding him. “Look, I’m sorry for being a bitch, okay? I shouldn’t have done it and... fuck, just stay away from me.” Lorna was hanging onto her control by threads.

"No you're not." he said calmly, still studying her emotions. "You're sick with fear, that much is obvious. You ... oh, I see it now! Of course! Sorry, can't help you while I'm blocked. You're just going to have to wait for your next little infusion of joy. _I_ can't remove the filter."

She didn’t dare speak. The next words out of her mouth might just damn her forever. Her nails dug deeper into her palms, the pain barely registering. She couldn’t force herself to just walk past him. She shook her head mutely, so sick with emotion she could taste it.

Manuel stared at her for a few seconds, and then smiled to himself. "I thought so. I wasn't sure, but you've confirmed it for me. Poor, poor Lorna. Real Life a little dull, a little grey for you? Wish I could help, I really do, but I actually do have a Psych assignment to work on. And don't damage your hands. Again." Then, _finally_, he stepped aside and over to the Psych books to go look up the titles he needed to get Doug to translate for him. "Sleep well, Lorna." he called to her without looking.

Lorna took a deep breath and literally ran from the library. She had to. Or else.