There's some kind of noise outside. Maybe a voice? If so, it's not really high enough to be intelligible. A bit rumbly, though.

This late? She adjusts her composure, straightening. "Come in."

Just a slight push on the door, at first. Beat. And then it swiftly swings open, and she marches through.

Gray slacks, and a black hoodie. Very pink sneakers. Satchel on her side, and a stride like she owns the floor.

Beat. The confidence seems to leave her body. "Hi."

Jessica keeps her expression professionally pleasant. "Good evening. How can I help you?" There's something about the girl's sudden drop in confidence that seems familiar, though she can't quite place it.

"Right; good evening. I was directed here-"

That's a sore spot.

"To see... you, presumably. Miss.. ss... Yamada?"

"That's correct. I'm Jessica Yamada, staff counselor. Please, have a seat." She gestures to one of the chairs across from her desk.

"Yes. Right."

She takes a seat, depositing her bag at her side, strap wrapped around her wrist. She pulls up a little clipful of papers and deposits it on the table:

'SPECIAL EXAMINATION ORDER'

"I'm... well, I guess I'm being considered for... an internship... and there are some concerns...?"

Ah, I see. An evaluation for the Wards program, then. Jessica nods, keeping her expression neutral. "I understand. The purpose of these evaluations is to ensure candidates are mentally and emotionally prepared for the responsibilities of a Ward. Please feel free to share as much or as little as you're comfortable with so I can get a sense of where you're at."

She nods, slowly, intertwining her fingers on her lap and leaning forward a bit, like she's psyching herself up to say something.

"Of course. I mean, I don't know where to start, exactly. I've never had a job where this was... a thing. I'd say I'm pretty well-adjusted? No outstanding issues to speak of. Mentally healthy. Normal."

She nods, internally noting that a "mentally healthy" cape was often a whole lot harder to synchronize with than one who had already recognized their trauma. "Why don't we start from the beginning? Tell me a bit about where you came from - your school, your parents, that kind of thing."

"Well."

Beat.

"I mean, I'm from around here. I got passed around... a couple public schools, and then I tested into some catholic private middle school, after... some things. So that was nice. Did a term in Winslow High, which was... not great, and then I got a scholarship somewhere else. And now I'm here."

Another pause.

"My parents were fine. Not so supportive, but I kind of made my own way."

"I see. It sounds like you've had a rather turbulent education and upbringing." Jessica keeps her tone gentle. "How did you end up triggering with your power, and what has that experience been like for you?"

"...Riiight."

Not really a defensive response, or a shocked response. Just kind of... 'this is awkward'. 

"So this is funny-"

She'll wait for a response of some kind. Silence is a useful tool.

"...And all. But. There's been kind of a misunderstanding. I'm still trying to clear it up, but it isn't working out for me. What-so-ever."

"Talk me through that misunderstanding. I'm here to help, if I can."

"Yeah. Well. I feel kind of... trapped, here, because, I get it, there's this whole process where you... bag, a cape, and you have to, you know, gather all kinds of information on them before they can work with you, and of course I'm in the middle of that process, as someone who got... caught punching criminals, and such, and. I understand that it's a tough ask, bureaucratically, but-"

"The thing is that I'm not a parahuman."

"Are you sure about that. Generally, I wouldn't expect to see non-parahumans inside this building unless they're in a soldier's uniform." Putting it mildly.

"Very sure."

"Armsmaster gave me that look, too."

"Okay. In that case, tell me why people think you've had a trigger event."

"Well. I mean, the last time I tried to explain this it came across a little arrogant. Which I definitely don't mean."

"But I think that they just have very low expectations."

Jessica nods sympathetically. "I understand that some of us have higher expectations of ourselves than perhaps the rest of society." She's not going to let her stop there though, of course.

"Exactly. And I'm not trying to talk myself up, here, but I feel like I'm... being looked down on? Because of course a mere human being could never punch some guy who can throw fireballs in the throat. Or like, shoot him with a gun. Not that I shot anyone. It's just... this lens. I just tried to do something and did it. There's nothing parahuman about that."

Jessica nods along, keeping her expression neutral. "I see. While it's certainly admirable to hold yourself to a high standard, and take" - she hesitates momentarily, looking for the right word - "direct action, perhaps there was something in those actions that might have given Armsmaster hesitation?" She realizes that she doesn't have the girl's file in front of her, and taps at the tablet in front of her. "What did you say your name was again? I don't mean your cape name, especially if as you say you aren't one, but I can use that if it makes you more comfortable."

"You can call me Melissa. I never got it... changed, on paper. So I don't know what you have in there. But that's my name. Yes, no 'cape names', thank you."

She leans back a bit, thinking.

The file can be summarized as follows:

BANSHEE*

Name: Brandon Shaner. Access level for that information has been greatly lowered, because, as the "identity risk" sub-section explains, she keeps refusing to not show people her actual ID. The information is fairly sparse, and consists mostly of a preliminary interview and report written by Armsmaster on the day prior. Put simply, he was attracted by, quote, "energetic and irregular screaming punctuated by shouts and gunfire", and found her apparently violently subjugating a small Merchants 'drug-house' occupied by dealers. Apparently there was someone she wanted to drag out of there; the report doesn't go into detail. She exhibited "high endurance, inhuman strength, and clearly superhuman speed and reflexes". A Thinker rating is speculated on but not explained at length. 

It was just yesterday, too, sometime around four in the morning. She's still very much in processing, but appears to be cooperating to avoid any possible charges for use of excessive force. There were many exposed fractures involved, and some friendly fire.

*Ad-hoc designation. No Name Provided.

"Melissa, I see." She nods, finally looking up from the tablet. "According to Armsmaster's initial report, your actions last night seemed to display abilities beyond those of an ordinary human. Even if you don't consider yourself to have a 'power', per se, there are clearly some unusual capabilities you possess. How long have you felt the urge to Make Things Right?" Capital pronunciation, one of her many talents.

"I mean, I work out. This body doesn't look after itself."

Beat.

"I guess you mean 'how long have I known I wanted to Punch Crime', but it was really nothing like that. My friend just... got... into heroin, and I needed to get her out of there. And I got a bit carried away."

A bit. Yes. Buried a little deeper in her file, there is a picture of what appears to be a man with a sharp exposed fracture on his forearm, stabbed into another man's- well, it's a little hard to tell from up close.

"I see. You went in to help a friend in need, and things escalated from there." She folds her hands on the desk. "While the desire to help others is admirable, vigilante justice is illegal and extremely dangerous. The Protectorate and Wards exist to address parahuman crime, and the best way to help is by working with us, not against the system." She pauses, considering. "That said, if you genuinely don't believe you have any parahuman abilities, then this evaluation is somewhat unnecessary. However, the measures you took last night suggest otherwise, and it would be irresponsible of me not to recommend power testing and training to ensure you have control over whatever abilities you may possess. The file says that you exhibited 'inhuman strength', but didn't give further details. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," but I won't be able to help you if you don't admit that you're feeling a bit different than you did yesterday, she doesn't say.

She visibly kind of struggles for a moment, fighting back an urge to roll her eyes. Deep breath.

"...I understand your perspective, here. That being said, of course I'm... open to testing, or whatever. Maybe I'm a genetic freak, or we can all clear this up somehow. All I want is for people to be... open to the possibility that the things I do are things I learned to do. I didn't magically learn martial arts. I've been able to do these things for a long time."

"Also, again, I work out. If Armsmaster can't do leg day on schedule that's not my problem."

A slight smile at that. "I appreciate your candor, and your willingness to work with us to find answers, whatever those may be. I can understand how frustrating it might be to feel misunderstood or underestimated." If you're right about what you are, well, you're not the only human around here. She stands, gesturing towards the door. "Let's check out the gym then, shall we? No need for too much formality."

"Sure, let's try that. Do you get any use out of it, or is it special staff only?"

She stands, too, slinging her satchel back on her shoulder. Off they go.

"I mostly do cardio, but yeah, I do lift." She flexes - admittedly, there's not much to flex, but she's proud that she makes the time at all. "Not everyone's powers are superhuman strength. Even the most intellectual of Thinker types still need to hit the gym regularly, or they'll have a hard time keeping up in the sort of life or death situations that are so common around here."

She maybe checks Jessica out, a little bit. Yeah.

"Cardio's smart. Mostly-not-stopping tends to be a bit more important than running fast or punching things. And, yeah, I imagine the pointdexters get put through all kinds of things. Though I didn't really get the impression from them."

She notices, because it's her job to notice things. Jessica chuckles. "You're not wrong. Many of the more intellectual capes do struggle a bit in the more physical aspects of the job, at least at first. But we find ways to adapt." She swipes her key card to unlock the gym doors. "After you."

She has a sneaking suspicion she's been caught, but alas. Sometimes that's kind of the point, and she can pretend it was the plan all along. She struts into the gym, carefully eyeing the room for discrepancies. 

Jessica joins her, sweeping the room with a quick glance. Standard set of free weights, a few different weight benches and racks, some cardio equipment, and training mats. A lot of reinforcement on the equipment - stuff is a bit more bolted down than your average civvie gym. The weights seem to go up quite high as well, topping out with some kind of strange chrome plate that draws the eye and is likely heavier than it appears at first glance.

She really wants to try to lift the space metal. It feels like a trap, though.

"This is great. Love the reinforced steel bolts on the bench. Did you know mine isn't even stuck to anything? Not really worth the subscription, really. What moves do you want to see?"

Jessica smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. "No need to put on a show for me. Go ahead and do your typical workout - show me what those normal human abilities are capable of." The tease is light, not too mocking. She settles in at one of the benches, clearly ready to observe.

Hm. Something about being told to do whatever after she asked for guidance is paradoxically setting off her defiance. She notes this, and contemplates the cognitive dissonance, for a moment, before shaking herself out of it. Kind of.

Beat.

"Well, it's just your luck, I usually like to put on a show for myself, so..."

"...Or it would be. If I came dressed for gym. I don't really trust myself with gymnastics in this. Anyway."

She chuckles, waving a hand dismissively. "By all means, wear what's comfortable. I'm not here to judge your fashion choices."

No, sweetheart. You're here to judge my worth.

Tension in her body, followed by stillness, followed by a deep, relaxing breath. You'll see.

A warm-up, first. Arms in, curling, fingers popping, and then out, shoulders popping, another deep breath. Twist from one side, to the other, curl her legs in and back. Pop-pop-pop. Clench and release.

You'll see what this meat can do.

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."

"...But I don't mean that it's a bad thing. Well, the whole clinical tone deal is a little weird for me. Like you're scrubbing everything you say clean. But that's just something else you choose to do, not because you're like that, but because you thought it was a good idea. Right? Most people do most things because they're a way. Because it feels right. You want something, and you aim for it. There's nothing really cold about that."

"Well, maybe you're a little bit like that."

Jessica laughs softly. "Guilty as charged, I suppose." She looks over at the girl thoughtfully. "You seem to have put a lot of thought into analyzing me. I'm curious what led you to these conclusions." She gives the girl an assessing look. "And what about you? Do you find that you 'aim for what you want' in a similar way?" She's still wary of the coy, adversarial tone the girl has taken at times, but is willing to engage in a frank discussion if it will give her more insight. There are layers of meaning and motivation behind the way people choose to interact, and she's determined to peel them back and understand this girl, as much as she's able. Though to be honest, it's a bit harder than usual, sweating in her tidy work blouse.

"Well, you didn't make it hard. Half of it was demographics—you wouldn't make it here if you weren't kind of a try-hard— and the most of the rest was affect, dress, paying a bit of attention to what you say. And little things. Pauses. Reaction speed. Reading, cold and hot."

She furrows her brow.

"When I tried it on Armsmaster he started asking if I had a Thinker power. Again, low expectations."

"...And yeah. I guess that's how I think of myself."

Jessica laughs. She can certainly see why Colin asked the girl about Thinker capabilities, given how insightful and perceptive she seems. "Well, I appreciate you taking the time to try and figure me out. It's an interesting experience, having your methods turned on you." She pauses, considering her words. "Do you think you'd be interested in joining the Wards, even without the para of parahuman? I'd be surprised if they underestimated you in here."

"I'm not really sure I have much of a choice."

"There's always a choice."

"It's... not a terrible idea, I guess. I'm already kind of battle-proofed, and the Wards are supposed to be pretty safe, so there's nothing really stopping me. Just kind of a trial period, while we figure things out. It feels weird, though."

"Maybe they'll put me on the fast track to a PRT field team once we clear up this whole misunderstanding?"

Jessica smiles encouragingly. "I'm sure you'd be an incredible asset to any team. And the Wards program is designed specifically to mentor parahumans your age, so I'd guess it's more than equipped for you." Her smile turns wry. "Not that you seem to need much mentoring, intellectually speaking. But having a stable support system can be … nice." She pauses, considering. "You seem wary of the idea, though. What concerns you about joining the Wards?" She keeps her tone gentle; it's clear this girl has faced a difficult path to get where she is now, and her reservations likely stem from very real experiences. Jessica wants to understand, so she can reassure her and ensure her needs are being met. Her job is to protect and empower even reluctant parahumans, not coerce them against their will.

"I mean, like I said. Not a parahuman. Imagine the mess that'll be, when... ugh, if, they actually figure out what's going on. Are they going to debut me? Am I going to have to lie? Will everyone think I'm crazy if I don't? I don't like that."

"...And I'd have to meet them to really know, but if I'm honest, the whole 'youth team' thing doesn't really gel with me. I'm... used to doing things alone. And I'm not sure how I feel about some kid whose main achievement in life is getting so traumatized that they got superpowers bossing me around."

Jessica nods thoughtfully. "I can understand why the idea of the Wards might not appeal to you, given what you've said." She considers for a moment. "As for the issue of your powers, the PRT is fully equipped to handle unusual or obscure abilities - I don't think you wouldn't have to lie, exactly. You don't have to call anything you do powers, just show them what you can handle. I like to think we do a better job not underestimating people with better standards." She gives the girl a sympathetic look.

"I agree that many people join the Wards or Protectorate to find purpose and belonging after traumatic experiences, but few of them that haven't moved past their trigger are leaders." Her tone is gentle but matter-of-fact. She can almost convince herself that it's not a lie.

"That said, the choice is ultimately up to you. The Wards program is designed to be supportive, not coercive. If you're not comfortable with the idea, we can discuss other options for helping you." She pauses, waiting to see how the girl will respond to her reassurances.

She furrows her brow a bit, angrily going slightly faster on the elliptical, before registering how silly that is and calming down.

"I guess it's not that it bothers me that I'd have to lie. Just... people are going to have these ideas about me. About how I came into what I can do. I guess... maybe I can work it? They let Myrddin say he's a wizard. But I don't... well, I don't know. I guess I can try to workshop it."

The Very True Assurance goes unremarked on.

"I just don't want this to just be how people see me. Forever."

Jessica nods in understanding. "Having your identity defined by your abilities, especially in the public eye, can be deeply uncomfortable. The Protectorate and Wards do provide resources for maintaining an alter ego and protecting your privacy, but there are no guarantees, and the line between cape and person can blur." She smiles gently at the girl. "You seem to have a strong sense of who you are, apart from any labels others might apply. Hold onto that, and don't let them define you. The PR department may want to craft an 'image', but you are the only one who can say who you really are." She pauses, considering. "Being part of a team like the Wards can provide mentorship and support in navigating these issues. But there are other options, if you'd prefer to remain independent." She smiles encouragingly. "The choice is yours. Just know that you have options, and you have worth and value regardless of what path you choose."

She stares at Jessica for a moment, slowing down a bit on the elliptical, rotating the shape of the conversation around in her head.

"...You're kind of good at this, aren't you? I..."

She chuckles, shaking her head and starting to wind down.

"Anyway. I'm probably tiring you out. Is there anything else you need to, uh, know? To clear me, or whatever it is that we're actually doing here. Formally speaking."

Jessica smiles. "Thank you, I do try my best." She considers the question, gaze thoughtful. "To formally clear you, I'd need to determine that you don't pose a threat to yourself or others, and have a plan in place to productively channel your abilities. We've discussed options for the latter, but to address the former..." She pauses. "You seem wary of authority and uncomfortable with the idea of close team dynamics. Are there any concerns I should be aware of regarding your willingness to follow orders or work with others?" Her tone is gentle but probing. She needs to get a sense of how well the girl would integrate into either the Wards or the Protectorate before determining if clearing her is the right course of action. But more than that, she wants to understand any underlying issues and find ways to support her, whatever path she chooses to walk.

"Oh, me? Team player. One hundred percent. Very prosocial. I ace those personality quizzes they give you in online intervies."

Single raised eyebrow.

"...I guess I'm not much of an order-follower. Again, I'd rather, uh... meet the team, yeah? I don't really know what to say except that it depends. I have kind of... quit more than one job on a whim. Kind of because I could. And I can get... a little too focused? But I'm not much of a maverick, I just have a strong personality. And only kind of an ass, most of the time. I can't imagine I'm worse than most of the people you end up getting."

She's again going to reject that comparison, all - or at least most - of her patients like to think they're above average on that front. "Because you could?" There's a lot being elided here.

"Well, I mean. A lot of people don't... well, maybe it's not that they don't realize it, just- well. A lot of people don't really seem to have figured out that they're in control of their lives, you know? They don't realize that they can just... change tracks. Hit the bricks. Start over. Or they don't know what to do, or they have things tying them down, or something. In the real world no one knows what you did."

Beat.

"...Like, if you cussed your boss out and walked out, or whatever, you don't have to put that on your resume when you go looking again."

Jessica considers this, expression placid. "That kind of rootlessness can be freeing, in a way." But constantly uprooting yourself to avoid accountability or commitment is usually a sign that there are underlying issues to address. She pauses, then adds gently, "Having a support system of people who understand you, a place to call home ... it's important for your wellbeing. I hope that in time, you'll find your tribe and settle in a place where you feel you belong." There's empathy in her tone, and a warmth that invites the girl to open up further if she feels inclined. But Jessica also understands if she's not yet ready, and simply hopes she'll take her words to heart.

Oh there's no way in hell she's opening up about-

"I get what you're saying, I gue- I really do. But I don't know that it really... I mean, I'm not skipping town or anything. I'm not, uh, disappearing on friends. I'm just not a big fan of people. I have... my own ways of looking for recognition and belonging, I guess. I'm figuring myself out."

Jessica nods, her smile gentle and understanding. "That makes sense. Figuring yourself out often involves a fair bit of self-reliance and independence." Still, she hopes that in time the girl will move from avoidance of commitment to finding healthy connections in her own way and at her own pace. Emphasizing that she's here for her at this stage probably isn't going to help much more. "I'll walk you home. Where have they put you up for the time being?" This is the best way she knows to show her that there's no need to go it entirely alone.

She just nods. Narrowly avoided that one.

"...At home, actually. I own my own place, so I guess they didn't bother with whatever procedure they have for this sort of thing."

Anticipating some kind of follow-up question, she enunciates:

"Emancipated."

She senses the girl's relief in her body language. She reminds Jessica of a marionette doll a little - strings and tension everywhere. Jessica raises her eyebrows, impressed in spite of herself. "That's quite an accomplishment." Given Banshee's youth and self-professed avoidance of attachments, gaining legal and financial independence suggests a degree of maturity and industriousness beyond her years. "Then I wish you luck getting home." She lightly jogs over to a towel rack, wiping off sweat.

"Don't give me too much credit. It was kind of a mutual decision."

She isn't particularly sweaty, or, actually, particularly tired, but she follows halfway, throwing a glance after her.

"I guess this is you withdrawing your invitation? I mean, fine by me, but I was kind of looking forward to finally having an excuse to bring someone over. Show off all the holes I made in the walls."

The tone is joking, but in a haha only serious way.

"Thanks, though."

Jessica pauses, looking over her shoulder and meeting the girl's eyes for a moment. There's a hint of rueful humor in her smile. "Let's call it deferment of gratification. Another time, perhaps." She appreciates the glimpse into Banshee's home life, however oblique - even if it is concerning. The biting sarcasm and subtle cry for help don't go unnoticed. "You're welcome. Take care." With a small wave, she bids the girl goodbye for now. There will be time enough to dig deeper in their next session. For now Jessica is content to plant seeds and build rapport at the girl's pace.

Unfortunately, her tiny apartment is in fact in the same direction.

She elects not to say anything, smiling wryly and waving the therapist off. She'll have time to agonize over what just happened later.

...Huh.

Don't look at her. She's just walking, hoodie over head. Maybe if she keeps walking they'll take different turns and this will stop happening. Yes, let's do that. 

As much as Jessica tries to give Banshee space, they do end up walking the same direction for several blocks. She keeps stealing glances at the girl out of the corner of her eye, noting the tense set of her shoulders and hurried stride. It's obvious she's uncomfortable with Jessica's presence, though whether that's due to a general dislike of authority figures or something more personal is hard to say. Finally, as they near a crossroads, Jessica stops. "This is my turn. Take care, Melissa." She hesitates, then adds, "You know you can reach out anytime if there's something you want to discuss." Jessica offers a small, encouraging smile. "Even if it's just to talk." With that, she turns the corner towards her apartment. The ball is in Banshee's court now.

Just walking. With the left foot and the right. Striding forwards. Nothing to see here. 

She nods slowly in lieu of an answer, staring awestruck at Jessica, before... also taking the same turn. This day isn't ever going to actually end, is it?

"I swear I'm not following you. Is- is this a bit? Am I being tested right now?"

She punctuates that with some very flamboyant, vaguely accusatory hand motions.

"I guarantee that this is not a 'bit'. I just want to go home."

If Melissa has secretly been living in her apartment this whole time she is going to scream.

"Okay. Of course. Coincidences. Those can happen."

Deep breaths. Very deep and very calm breaths. Still vaguely suspicious of this whole affair, she trudges on, idly cracking individual knuckles on her fingers, not daring to ask what street Yamada lives on.

She's going to punch in the door code for the building, keeping her body between her company and the keypad. And just go in. It's okay to be rude sometimes. She needs out.

She doesn't really look away so much as vaguely lose focus, staring dumbly at Jessica from a few feet back.

Jessica is in fact left to her own devices inside the building. 

For a good few seconds. Before someone outside presses the buttons on the door and makes it through first try.

"Listen."

Beat.

Jessica closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She turns around very slowly. "You said that you weren't following me." Her voice is impressively calm and level given the circumstances. She briefly considers the possibility of Master/Stranger shenanigans before dismissing it. No. This is just Tuesday.

She stares at Jessica for a few seconds, eyes a little wide, body still.

In lieu of answering, she sheepishly pulls a keychain out of her pocket, jingling it quietly.

"Me first."

"As you wish."

She is not going to scream she is not going to scream she is not going to have to live the rest of her life NEXT TO HER PATIENT.

Melissa's expression is kind of numb, at this point. Quietly measuring. This really isn't helping the paranoia. She'll rummage through the mail and the trash to look at the dates on the bills she can find later. Now she'll watch.

"You'll want to see me open the door. Ms. Yamada."

It doesn't look like a master key or blank, if Jessica even knows what those look like. Just a house key. Standard for the doors here. And it's not a big keychain.

Insert. Turn.

(It doesn't quite turn. She gives the door a little push, and tries again, all in the span of a held breath.)

The door opens.

Jessica presses her lips together, holding back a flood of questions. She settles on one: "How long have you lived here?" Her voice is impressively calm given the maelstrom of confusion and panic swirling inside.

"Four months."

Her lips make a soft pop, like she's chewing bubblegum, but there's nothing there. Still 'calm'.

"You?"

Jessica feels her brain short circuiting. Four months. She's lived there for over a year. How did she not notice a parahuman living directly across the hall this whole time - right, she just became one. She presses the heels of her hands against her eyes and sighs deeply. "I apologize, for the abruptness, but I have to go." With that, Jessica steps into her apartment and gently closes the door. She needs a drink. Several, even. Today has been utterly absurd.

It's been a while since she stayed up all night checking for surveillance equipment and rummaging through her neighbors' things. So that'll be fun.

Jessica sits on her couch with a glass of wine, staring at nothing. Her mind is still reeling from the revelation that one of her new patients lives across the hall. It seems likely as not to end in violation of boundaries (and honestly, professional ethics, if the girl's as bad as her other neighbors). And yet, the girl seemed just as surprised as Jessica. She groans, taking a long drink. There's no easy solution here. She'll have to report the issue to her supervisors in the morning and go from there. For now she does her best to unwind, turning on some soft music and flipping through a book she's been meaning to read. It's hard to focus with the knowledge of what awaits her tomorrow, but the familiar ritual is comforting. Her eyes start to droop just as the last of the wine disappears from her glass. It seems this day was determined to end as absurdly as it began.