Shameless crack. Please enjoy.
The man adjusted the gold wire- framed glasses that rested upon his slender nose. He regarded the two teenagers in front of him. Someone had pulled a lot of strings to get him to see this boy. As the foremost (and only) therapist in Sina, he really had no buisness dealing with a child soldier. That pompus Commander Erwin had pulled rank, damnit, he wasn't even getting paid for this.
He internally sighed, trying not to let his distaste show on his face. He could be having lunch right now. He extended his hand to the green eyed boy and just managed to project a facade of professionalism.
"Hello, Mr Eren Jaeger, I am Dr Dämpfschaftskäptain. As your new therapist, we will be spending a lot of time together. . . and, er. . ." He trailed off.
The therapist raised an immaculate brow at the girl currently clinging to the boy's jacket. She gave him a ice cold glare.
"I was only aware that there was only one of you. . ."
"This is Mikasa, my adoptive sister." The boy had a neutral look on his face, but his green eyes gleamed with something. . . off. The boy inhaled deeply and exhaled harshly, like a cornered animal staring down a threat.
"I'm sorry, miss, but these therapy sessions are supposed to be confidential. I'm afraid that you must leave for the duration of our little talk." He looked at the teenage girl who clung to the boy's jacket so tight that it started making ripping noises as she subtly glanced towards the closed door.
"Uh, well, I guess you can wait outside if you want."
The black-haired had a dangerous gleam in her eye. Her eyes slowly drifted towards the therapist's vulnerable neck.
"Er, ha ha-" he chuckled nervously. "I-if you don't want to leave, y-you can stay in here as long as you don't interrupt." He wiped the cold sweat off his brow with the cuff of his suit.
The girl, Mikasa, marched her brother over to the long, bed-like lounge and sat down violently.
Dr Dämpfschaftskäptain cautiously edged away and took a seat on the tall, padded chair opposite to them. He delicately crossed one leg over the other and took his notepad and fountain pen into his quivering hands.
"You may want to lay down, it will help you relax and open up to me. I'm sure that with a little work, we will be able to go over all of your issues and problems together", He said gently, with a faint quaver to her voice. He put on his best "doctor" persona.
Eren growled. Yes. Growled.
He practically leapt off the chair and twisted himself out of his sister's grip.
"Godamnit! I don't need therapy. I don't have issues!" He yelled over his shoulder as he marched out the door.
The therapist was glad. Maybe he wouldn't have to do this, after all.
"Eren, wait." His sister ran after him. She grabbed his shoulder and yanked him around to face her. She kept her strong arms on his shoulders, holding him in place and brought his face to hers and glared into his green eyes.
Dr Dämpfschaftskäptain could only catch snippets of the low conversation from his chair, but what he heard. . .
"Commander Erwin explicitly said that you can't join the Scouts Regiment unless you pass a mental evaluation. . . You will get through this. . . Just a few more hours of this. . . go and slaughter all the Titains, just like you swore. . . You. Me. And Armin."
The therapist looked around nervously. If things went south, maybe he could use one of his books as a bludgeon to defend himself.
The siblings walked back over to the chair and sat down. Well, Mikasa sat down and yanked Eren down, so he was lying down, using her lap as a pillow.
Eren flailed slightly and tried to sit up. Mikasa clamped his head down with one hand.
She gently ran her fingers throgh the boy's hair. He shuddered.
And not in a good way.
Dr Dämpfschaftskäptain fidgeted nervously. The therapist wanted to protest. She was making his client uneasy. But, something dangerous in her eyes told him to keep quiet.
"Uh, so. . . Mr Jaeger", he trailed off, breaking the awkward silence.
He steeled himself, pulling up the pieces of his shattered professionalism around him like a shield. He re-crossed his legs, set his notepad and pen on his lap and leaned foward, placing his hands together in a steeple.
"So. . . Tell me about your mother. . .