Psych Eval: Professor Beau Halloran

[Beau Halloran]

Beau understood that changes were being brought about, and he also understood the reasons behind them, but that didn't mean he had to like any of it. Mandatory psych evaluations? Just the thought made him shudder. The well-groomed Professor clutched the letter between pale fingers, the stony set of his face belying any feelings or second thoughts he might be having.

In truth, Beau was uncomfortable. Very, very uncomfortable. Then again, though, he was always uncomfortable. Really, this was no different. It's not like he really had anything to worry about, after all. He was just quiet. And shy. And semi anti-social. Okay, a LOT anti-social.

The Professor's face remained completely blank. He could have been thinking about the pros and cons between competing brands of dishwashers, for all anyone else could tell. Anyone else... but a psychiatrist. Maybe.

Lethargically, Beau shuffled his way to the Counselor's office, i.e., the Hospital Wing. Was he supposed to knock? Er... well, the door wasn't actually closed all the way anyway, so after a moment of somber thought, he walked on in.

It looked clean inside, and there wasn't anyone around, at least not that he saw with the first sweep of his impassive gray-blue eyes. Without saying a word, the Astronomy Professor took a seat in the first chair he saw. The only unusual thing about his appearance was the bags under his eyes -- though that in itself would be considered a norm for someone who taught astronomy.

Actually, on that note, the most unusual thing would have to be how actually normal he looked. His black hair was sleek and shiny, not at all messy or hippie-long, he wore a button-up shirt and tie under his immaculately clean robes, and his shoes were dark, clean, and did not make noises with every step or allow him to fly. He looked more like a candidate for an aspiring law firm than the teacher of a magic school prone to chaos, such as this one.

Beau Halloran sat still, did not fidget, and absolutely did not clear his throat as any other might do to summon the attention of the person he was supposed to meet. This sort of thing wasn't supposed to take very long, was it? He really wanted to get back to bed.

[Doctor Schmitt]

The Counselor's Office, at this moment, was barren. Deserted. The good Doctor hadn't quite decorated it yet. Actually he had, perhaps thirteen times before deciding he'd take a Dadaist / Minimalist approach for twenty seven minutes. It was in these twenty seven minutes that Mr. Halloran decided to stop by. While the Astronomy professor was stepping in and making himself all cozy and such, Schmitt was in the adjoining closet, working out in his mind just how it was theoretically possible for every book by Dan Brown to coincide with the Tom Clancy-verse. And how it was possible for the Tom Clancy-verse to actually make sense and have a cohesive narrative at some point. And how the Tom Clancy-Dan Brown-verse could theoretically exist in the mind of Dean Koontz, if that hack could actually write anything halfway decent and with realistic characters that didn't just exist for a minor purpose. It was very dark in that closet. That, and the Doctor heard the minor shuffling of motion in his office. A quick glance at his watch revealed that it was NOT quite Oompah Band Practice time, so it must be someone requiring a bit of assistance.

So it was that the appointed School Psychiatrist, Dr. Devin Schmitt, stepped out of the closet and into his office, wearing a wide grin and wearing bright green lederhosen. His trademark cigarette was replaced with an ornate Germanic pipe and he looked to be every single non-Nazi German stereotype wrapped up into one human being. Looking slightly shocked for a moment, he gave his pipe a puff, before turning, spinning his staff once, and transfiguring his lederhosen into robes and his pipe into a cigarette and crossing over to shake Beau's hand, eyes alight with that typical manic energy.

"Hello hello hello! You are NOT who I expected - but then I wasn't quite expecting anything now was I? Dr. Schmitt, nice to meet you whoever you are! This'd be an amazing opportunity to introduce yourself and tell me what you're here for otherwise I'll make something up! Keeps things interesting, no?" The grinning Doctor was a mountain of a man, all height and minimal girth, looking like an Aryan dream come true. Bright blonde hair, blue eyes, solid jaw, and a grin that could quite possibly stop an M-shaped-shuriken in mid-air. Before Beau could even respond, he hopped over his desk and slumped into his chair, tossing his staff onto the desk while a small mountain of papers flew out from the varied drawers and cupboards and sorted themselves on the wooden surface.

Looking to have not a single bother in the world, Schmitt plopped his feet onto the desk, crossed them, uncrossed them, did a quick time-step on the edge of the desk, then settled on crossing them while tucking his hands behind his head all while keeping eye contact on the Professor. In truth, it would be interesting to see if that little introduction would shake this chap. He looked ENTIRELY too normal to belong here. But, well, the Doctor would find out soon enough...schools needed normal.

[Beau Halloran]

speech·less   [speech-lis]
adjective

1. temporarily deprived of speech by strong emotion, physical weakness, exhaustion, etc.: speechless with alarm.
2. characterized by absence or loss of speech: speechless joy.
3. lacking the faculty of speech; dumb.
4. not expressed in speech or words: speechless compliments.
5. refraining from speech.

There was no better word in the English dictionary than the one above to describe Beau Halloran's state of mind as the school psychiatrist entered. And changed clothes. And shook his hand. And talked. And talked. And talked.

Beau was generally an expressionless man, and that stuck true in this situation, as well, but briefly, his blue eyes widened. That was about the same as another man jumping on top of his chair and screaming like a little girl. This guy...

Holy shit.

Very, very carefully, Beau looked to his right. Then, his left. No, no back-up. He was all alone with this guy. It was like every scary movie come true all at once, minus the ten-story high tentacle monsters and the dude with the claws for hands.

The Astronomy Professor opened his mouth; his face remained deadpan. "..........Hello." He shifted minutely -- again, that was a lot for him.

".......Beau Halloran, Astronomy Professor." Still maintaining that level, almost bored stare, Beau lifted the paper he'd received, the one that this man, purportedly, had sent him. ".........Psych eval?" There was almost a hopeful tinge to that last part. Perhaps Dr. Schmitt would take the lead, and he, Beau, wouldn't have to talk again ever, and then he could just go back to sleep and everything would be good forever.

Okay. Yes. That sounded like a nice ending to this whole... whatever it was.

[Doctor Schmitt]

The poor little sod was TERRIFIED! Then again, that was like saying that a stone edifice twitched, or a crying angel statue moved or Kristin Stewart reacted to some stimulus on camera. The impossible had happened within the first ten seconds of their encounter, and the Doctor was all a-giddy with it. However, no matter how scarring their meeting might be, it provided very valuable intelligence on the poor man. He was an introvert - he had the strongest composure of just about anyone - he managed to retain his cool and contemplate his words and actions despite extreme circumstances - he was a coward. ALL USEFUL INFORMATION to the Doctor, who was lighting up another cigarette while his staff planted itself to the wall. A slip of paper tugged its way down from one of the newly-stacked stacks of stackiness and stackdom down infront of Schmitt, a quill spawning directly up from...his ashtray.

"The PSYCH evaluatoin! Yes yes yes yes YES! Mr.Professor Halloran yes! Did you know you're the first to arrive? I mean really the first and only Professor to respond so far? I mean that I'm fairly certain I haven't even SEEN another professor other than dear Miss Morgan so I'm wondering if they had you all locked up in tight little cages underneath the School and only let you out to instruct the students but then if they just-wait a moment I'm rambling and you're petrified so I'll just get right down to business and dissect your brain and pry out all your horrible dark secrets and slosh about your psyche like it was morbid grey pudding...

...how's that sound?! I'm kidding of course, I take great cares when assessing or treating someone. I'm a Doctor after all."

The man spoke like a machinegun, and was always moving despite being sat down. He fiddled with his quill, scrawling several flourished notes despite the one-sided conversation. He spun a cigarette. He put on his spectacles. He did a quick little tapdance with his fingers (pretending that they were legs of course) while reading through the Personnel file. He contemplated enchanting a stone Chimera named Godfrey to be his butler. But none of that was important right now. Well, Godfrey might become important in the near future. That was up for deliberation.

"RIGHT! So! Allons-y! Mr. Professor Halloran before we begin, is there anything you'd like to ask me or should inform me about? Like being a potential axe murderer? I'd rather like to know that sort of thing ahead of time."

The poor bastard.