He wasn’t listening to half the introductions himself until he heard the man next to him speak. An eyebrow quirked up under thick bangs only vaguely curious to find he’s not the only one who found this to be a complete waste of time and personal space. He stared ahead, eyes feeling especially irritated today, a shame he didn’t bring his eye drops to this session. Really, he would have bounced the second he got the chance so he didn’t expect to need them. That’s what he gets for assuming.
So the introductions moved onto him, everyone looking at him while he sank further into his scarf. There was also no reason to bring his heavy capture weapon to a therapy session, he swapped that out for comfort. Security blanket, basically. He let a sigh slip into the fabric and lifting his chin.
“Shouta Aizawa, preference to Aizawa. High school teacher, history. I’m fond of cats.” There, out of the way. Again their therapist looked at him expectantly. Aizawa just blinked tiredly at him, refusing to say more.
“...And?” The therapist said.
Aizawa shook his head slowly, leaning back further in his seat and crossing his arms. His fidgeting moved to his fingers now, tapping along his bicep. There was a sigh from the man and the session continued on. While the others talked about what brought them here, Aizawa just gave Simon a side long stare, more than a glance, his black hair doing what it did best, hiding his face from such obvious curious glances he found himself committing to out in public.
Perhaps there would be an easy way out of this short of climbing out an open window.
Over all there were 15 people in this ground session including the therapist, 14 strangers. Yeah, he respected the man’s efforts but Aizawa was adamant he’s fine, a closed book, not interested in sharing his thought process and traumas.
Work was his stress ball.
“Let me guess. Required cheap assessment you were forced to partake in?” Aizawa inquired quietly, head turned to now look at Simon to let him know he was indeed talking to him.
“If I’m wrong, you look absolutely thrilled to be here.” Dry sarcasm, he looked ahead again.
The way the man next to him reacts to the introductory questions is plenty of confirmation for his suspicion. They are the problem patients here. It makes Simon smirk, to know he is not alone with this absolute dread of speaking out.
Everyone else, at least, is cooperative enough, which only singles them out further as the session moves on. Simon gives this man--Aizawa--a sidelong look, raising a brow curiously. “A requirement from my benefactor,” he answers quietly, “a requirement to keep my position with the city.” It’s hard to explain the situation entirely, that it’s his benefactor/boss/father figure/mentor/whatever who has requested--demanded--his presence here. What a thing to explain.
With that, he remains patient--or perhaps merely tolerant of the session, snarking off in his proper turn rather than speaking over others. Simon knows this type of therapy is very helpful--for those who are willing to speak.
Instead of paying attention, he sits with his arms crossed, closed off, going over all the justifications in his head for why he is not participating, and repeats a certainty that no one would relate to his story.
Then comes their break, at long last, and Simon switches his tactic. There’s little use in staying here, but it will be difficult to justify leaving, or to tell a convincing lie without a plan...
“Forgive me if this is presumptuous,” he starts as he approaches Aizawa, who he intends to recruit as his partner-in-a-harmless-crime. “But would you like to ditch this farce? If I am without proper reason, I could find myself on leave. However...,” he pauses thoughtfully, “perhaps we can feign an acquaintance, and state that one of us is feeling grievously ill... Or had an emergency arise which requires us to not be here...” It’s a suggestion, a simple one, but Simon can tell a convincing story when need be.
