Though she managed to hide her surprise behind a veil of a quirked, smug grin and raised eyebrow, Eleanor relaxed a bit. At least she'd managed to humor the blond.
"Well, lucky for you, I've got a weakness for guys who know how to use a wrench, so if you ask real nice, you might just be surprised," she teased.
When Baird apologized, though, this time Eleanor's surprise wasn't something she could hide. She knew that apologies from him were rare, and she watched as his expression faded from that immutable smugness and into that of a scolded child.
She followed his gaze around the office silently, and Eleanor could only guess that he was taking in details about the place. If she had to guess, too, she would say that Baird was far more observant that three-quarters of her patients.
"Client-patient confidentiality," Eleanor reminded quietly. "That and I'm not one for spreading what others have told me in confidence."
Then he began to unwrap the journal, and Eleanor frowned slightly. She hadn't really pegged Baird to be one to keep a journal, but Eleanor should have known better by this point than to make assumptions about anybody. Her curiosity made her gaze stayed primarily on the journal, otherwise she would have been able to notice Baird's expression getting darker.
It was only in that flare of anger, when the journal was suddenly hurled at her feet, that Eleanor felt a quick stab of panic.
Excellent job, you idiot! Didn't stop to think that the object of your affections could be an angry drunk, did you? Eleanor's mental voice had never been one for niceties.
It wouldn't be the first time she'd dealt with a violent patient, and there was typically somebody nearby enough that could provide assistance, but in this instance, Eleanor had let her guard down more ways than she really wanted to count.
The staggering one was that there was nothing between her and Baird. Normally, she would be sitting at her desk, and it would take a lot to get across it. But now...nothing except a journal at her feet.
Quickly snatching back her composure and trying to ignore the fact her heartbeat had started to thrum much quicker, Eleanor watched Baird for a few, long, silent minutes. Though he didn't move, she never let her gaze move from him as she crouched down and picked up the journal. Holding the book tightly, Eleanor watched Baird for another small stretch of silence.
"Well..." Eleanor wasn't entirely sure where to begin, and she didn't want to cause Baird to simply storm out of her office. But there wasn't exactly a point in censoring herself, either. So, with a short sigh, Eleanor continued. "We all lock away emotions that we either don't want to or can't deal with, though it's rarely for an extended period of time. This war is one of those rare exceptions."
Her gaze started to drift down in thought, but Eleanor quickly brought it up, back to Baird.
"I've...I've seen some of the reports, Baird. You were out in the thick of things, far more than most. I don't find it surprising you ended up with a slightly more...caustic temperament. But this," Eleanor held up the journal slightly. "I'd say there's a lot pent up in these pages. Emotions that you either couldn't or didn't want to deal with at that time."
Her voice drifted off for a brief moment, but Eleanor's gaze never left Baird. Finally, though, she managed a weak smile.
"You can't get rid of this journal. At least not until you've come to terms with whatever is locked between these pages. It'd be like trying to get rid of a part of you." Drawing in a slow breath, Eleanor absent-mindedly fiddled with the locket on her neck. "It's not as easy as getting a cut to heal. We can't just rip out an emotion we don't like and let the wound bleed before it heals. One can keep them at bay through alcohol, drugs, fights, or what have you, but in the end, the emotions are always there. There isn't really any other way to get past them but to accept them."
