A single, agonizingly gradual, frighteningly flexible bending-back turns into a spin, legs lazily soaring through the air as her arms dutifully slow her down. There's something unnatural about the motion, about the lazy crouch she lands into. Catlike, maybe. The same thing, now, instead segueing into a jump that leaves her hand only mildly guiding her through the air, flowing into an almost-sitting position, slapping her hands on the ground, springing back up to standing.

Nothing a very good gymnast couldn't do with a lot of practice, of course. That's the whole point, isn't it?

"And I guess you're just sitting there for the duration of the show?"

She's practically posing, now, shoulder snapping, almost, as she stretches her arms behind her back, hands held together. That's not a normal sound.

"Not sure how I feel about that. Telling you everything you want to know about me while you give me little hints. I know how this works. Why don't you show me something, too?"

...Yeah, she is, uh, weirdly angry about this, actually. Her conscious mind conjures up a little figure of a mouse being served food pellets in a glass to do tasks, under observation. A totally fair comparison. For some reason working out always kind of riles her up.

Jessica raises an eyebrow, looking the girl over. Her movements are too fluid, too precise, and she's right that the faint popping sounds are unnatural. "I think you misunderstand the purpose of this," she says mildly. "This isn't a performance, and I'm not observing you for my own entertainment. I'm here to help you prove that you're safe. If you'd like to make progress, I suggest being open and honest in our discussions." She gives the girl an assessing look. "Is there a reason you feel compelled to show off like this?"

Oh no, she's being reasonable. Renewed cognitive resources counter-invest against and subjugate the embarrassment, cannibalizing it for more defiance.

"I know you're not doing it for fun. You're doing it so you can write down what I am on some clipboard. Boil me down. I like that a lot less than fun. So why not play it up?"

Why not show that she's not a little mouse.

"Just some back and forth. To help me feel better."

Jessica shakes her head. "I'm not here to 'boil you down' to anything. I want to understand you as a whole person." She walks over to some of the free weights and picks them up, gaze steady on her patient. She doesn't need to play into the adversarial dynamic the girl clearly itches for (which when she thinks about it, it a pretty typical cape behavior). "You have a lot of energy to burn off. That kind of constant restlessness must be difficult to live with." Her tone is matter-of-fact, but not unkind. "If you'd like, we can discuss strategies for managing that energy. Personally, I'm a bit tired," she was supposed to be home by now, "but I'll do a few sets to keep you company."

Okay. Now she feels kind of bad. Her face shuffles through a few sets of expressions before reluctantly doing a kind of diagonal-nod-shake-head-thing, and...

"...You don't. Have to. If you're tired."

The affect on that last word is some kind of messy mixture of contempt and apology. She takes a deep breath.

"...Just tell me something about yourself, I guess. Are you married, do you have any pets. I'm not picky."

Jessica looks up from her weights. The girl isn't the first patient to express curiosity about her personal life, though she's still wary of the motivations behind the question. Still, building rapport requires a degree of openness. "I'm not married. I have a cat named Darcy. She's a calico, and quite spoiled." She smiles a bit, thinking of the furry menace. "No other pets. I value my free time, and investing in a high-maintenance animal doesn't appeal." She switches to a different set of weights, movements steady and controlled. "How about you? Any pets or close friends?"

"No friends I'm married to. No pets, either." She smirks, confidence somewhat re-established. "My dad used to have a dog, but, like you said. High-maintenance."

She considers her pre-workout done, against all the laws of bodybuilding, and reaches for some weights she can stack on the chest press machine.

It should be noted that she's kind of lithe. Trim, definitely, just from what's visible of her wrist, though it's hard to tell behind the baggy clothes.

(The way she picks up the weights is a little strange. Bending her body a bit, but casually, like she's trying to balance her weight more than she's actually exerting.)

Jessica watches the girl carefully load weights that seem disproportionate for her build. She makes a mental note; either she has some sort of enhancement, or she's pushing herself in an unhealthy way. "It can be difficult forming close relationships when you have an... unusual lifestyle," she says diplomatically. "But having a support system of people who understand you is important. Have you considered joining a sports team, or at least finding like-minded peers?"

"Sports teams won't take me. Not in this city. I did go to a dojo, but..."

Something makes her feel like she's about to sound really smug. She tries to preemptively rephrase.

"It got a little monotonous. And competition would be... awkward. For a few reasons. Do you have an 'unusual lifestyle'?"

Jessica hums, choosing her words carefully. "In a way. My work requires an unusual degree of flexibility and understanding. Not many outside of the parahuman studies field fully grasp what capes go through on a day to day basis." She sets down her weights, giving the girl her full attention. "I know finding your place in the world can be difficult when you don't quite fit in. But there are communities out there that will accept you for who you are, if you look for them." Her gaze is steady and sincere. "You have worth, and you deserve to find people who recognize that."

This time she does outright roll her eyes, theatrically, as she sits down on the machine. ...Five hundred pounds. For a start. On a chest press. That's nice.

"Sure thing. Look, I don't need to be told I'm hot shit. I know. I'm not lonely. I'm just focused."

She grabs the handle and goes, a slow, long press that ends with her letting out a small sigh as she settles back down. It's not 'peak human', but the ease and her build do make this all seem very unnatural.

"I bet people nag to you about it, too. You're doing too much work, you should work on your work-life balance, work-work-work." Push. Slow release.

She looks over Jessica. "You seem like the type." 

That's frankly off the charts for an unmodified human of her build. Jessica watches the display with a frown, deeply concerned for the girl's physical health and mental well-being. "I do my best to maintain balance in my life," she says, "but that's advice I'd offer to anyone who a hero brings in here. Pushing your body to extremes can lead to injury, or worse." She shakes her head slightly. "You seem like you have something to prove. I want you to know that your worth isn't defined by how much you can lift, or any other superficial measure of ability." Her gaze is intense, willing the girl to understand. She puts down her weights, and steps over to the elliptical. "I'm pretty beat, so I might just do some cardio. You're welcome to join me if you'd like."

She furrows her brow, glances at the weights, and frowns.

"I'm just doing my sets, like you told me to. What are you even..."

Deep breath. She pinches the bridge of her nose.

"...Yeah. Let's do some cardio."

Jessica smiles encouragingly and steps onto the elliptical, setting a moderate pace. "Exercise releases endorphins that improve your mood and help reduce stress." She glances over at the girl, keeping her tone light. "So, what sort of music do you like to listen to while you work out? I'm partial to instrumental music, myself." Small talk while exercising together can help build rapport, and give her more insight into her patient's habits and mindset. She's curious to see how the girl will respond to her overture at casual conversation.

"Instrumental sounds a little broad."

She bounds along, rolling her shoulders and stretching a bit, like she's savoring some mild afterburn. Onto the elliptical.

...And, sorry, not sorry, fails to avoid looking. Something about this situation is making her look a lot. She's really just looking for an in. An in to what? To winning.

She could try to go at great speed on the elliptical. Instead, she tries what is, to her, a little mind-game play: just calmly match her "partner's" speed.

"...Mostly weird noise techno. Something I can pay attention to, and, uh, drift off at the same time. Fuck Buttons, Vessel. It sounds edgier than it is."

Jessica nods, glancing over and mirroring the girl's pace. "I can understand the appeal of music that induces a sort of trance-like state. It can be calming, in the right context." She considers for a moment, then adds, "I listened to a lot of ambient and minimalist music when I was in graduate school. Studying the effects of triggers and trauma meant dealing with upsetting material, and that kind of music helped me detach and process it effectively." She smiles wryly. "Not the most typical study playlist, I'll admit." She's hoping that sharing something personal about her background will encourage the girl to open up in turn, and build more of a rapport between them. But she's also wary about how much to disclose, not wanting to make her patient feel like their sessions are entirely focused on her own experiences. There's a delicate balance to strike, here.

Is the mind-game working? It's hard to tell. She manages to look straight at Jessica, at least.

"You're the kind of person who does things 'effectively', yeah?"

Beat. It's unclear whether this is a kind of mockery or a leading question. The tone seems to mildly suggest the former.

"Me too."

Jessica raises an eyebrow at the girl's tone, but keeps her own voice mild. "Effectiveness is certainly a virtue in my line of work. Lives are at stake, so we have to use the tools and knowledge we have to the best possible end." She considers the girl for a moment, then says carefully, "It seems like you also place a lot of importance on ability and competence. I like that."

She looks straight ahead, smiling slightly. "Sure. You, me, and everyone else, when you put it like that." She frowns. "Maybe not that last thing. But that's not what I mean. I mean that you're the kind of person who looks back on their week and thinks..."

She does 'a voice'. Also unclear if this is mockery.

"What was my effectiveness today? Was anything I did inefficient. Did I meet my quarterly growth targets... what measures can I employ to increase the net value of my investments. You weigh things on a balance in your head. You don't just... 'do stuff'. You choose habits. That's the kind of person you are."

"Life is a problem to be solved, and I've got a method."

She doesn't do that one in the voice.

She shakes her head. "You make it sound so cold." She looks out the window: stars over head, ships on Brockton Bay. Fighting crime may not pay, but it can sure get you one heck of a view. "The PRT - and honestly, more broadly, the world - is full of people, each with their own bright light within them, spark that guides them and shapes them and brings them together, pushes them apart, both at once. I became a - well, therapist is maybe a strong word, given that patient confidentiality is a little strained around here - we'll go with a counselor so I could care for people, nurture them, see them become more of themselves. I'm not here to weigh a balance, though maybe my bosses are. I just want to help."

"Hey, don't talk to me about cold, miss ability and competence."