Disclaimer: Claiming no ownership of Sons of Anarchy's original storylines and characters

Clair's POV:

It had been a good month. Well not exactly good, but good-adjacent. Nothing really happened and for the first time in my life, I was really happy about that- I mean I guess I was simply happy to live a normal life, at least as normal as it ever got for a person with the ability to read other people's minds.

Thank God my 'gift' wasn't anything like the stupid movies and TV shows often made it look like. I would have been the one behind the bars and in need of psychological help if I was able to hear everything without first having to create a physical contact. That thought alone made me shudder.

I looked up at Ryan over my papers, realizing I had totally zoomed out while he was going on and on about knowing his purpose in life. Even as I wasn't sure of what that purpose was and I doubted that even he himself actually believed a word that came out of that grilled up mouth of his, I gave him a warm smile. At least he wasn't throwing out threats like the previous one.

I was tired, it had been a long day already, and I could hardly sit still listening to him, even as he was one of the easier ones, at least by the initial feel of it. I had yet to read his mind, but I could already sense that he was almost harmless. Yet again, considering that he in fact was in jail for a robbery gone wrong for the one hundredth time in a row, I couldn't really go easy on him either.

Still it was just the first session of many, so I let him continue his monologue, occasionally writing stuff down to my notebook.

To be all honest, I wasn't even that tired as I just couldn't wait to go home and get lost in the world of True Blood. It was starting to become a routine- get up, get to work, get home, watch TV and go to sleep, just to start it all over again the next day.

I know, my choice of leisure-time TV was a bit ironical, considering that the world poor little Sookie was living in would have been my very own personal nightmare. (Even as there were those little bonuses that came with it, I mean who wasn't drooling after Mr. Northman, right?) But still it was good enough of an imaginary world to put my real life on shelf even for the tiniest of times.

So basically that was it. Every single day after getting home, I started watching it from where I'd left it the previous night … talk about not having a social life.

Okay-okay, now to be brutally honest, then yeah, it had been a quiet and peaceful month, but on the other hand I was still jumping up in my seat each and every time I heard the sound of a motorcycle passing by my house.

It wasn't like I was expecting Happy to spontaneously drop by, but his promise to get even was still ringing in my ears like a set of church bells.

More often than not I found myself daydreaming about him, all the while being totally aware of what kind of a person was hidden behind that smoking hot surface. Still I just kept on trying to come up with situations where I could forget about hearing anything he had ever thought and just let him take me like I knew he would.

However each and every time my thoughts started to really spiral out of control, along with my hand moving where it should not have been moving while thinking of him, I forcefully shook myself out of it. Those dumb sounding ideas were leading nowhere anyhow, in reality I already knew I'd never be able to just look past his murderous tendencies- not even for a quickie… hot, dirty, mind-blowing quickie.

"Hey Clair, do you think you could fit in another one?" Tracy's head appeared in my doorway a short while after Ryan had been escorted out.

"Now?" I let out a desperate sigh. What about Eric and Alcide? They were waiting for me.

"I know, just that there are higher ranks here wanting you to crack him open like a pinjata, as quick as possible. I think it's cause they're not sure of how long they can keep him in here," Tracy was now leaning against the doorway. By the look on her face, I knew she was annoyed by this as much as I was.

"Oh fine, who is it? I mean what's he in for and what do they want us to talk about while braiding each other's hair?" I stood up and moved to the cabinet to put Ryan's file away.

"They said that whatever you can get. He's part of some gang.. I don't know much. Here's the file," she handed me a stack of papers.

"Okay, send the little troublemaker in then," I moved back to my desk.

"Hey, you didn't say what he did to win this little vacation," I spoke out just before the door closed.

"Lunatic dragged some poor fellow behind a moving vehicle. So I'd say be prepared for an anger management session."

"Oh I will manage the hell out of him," I let out a yawn covered chuckle.

Dropping the new guys file on my table, I grabbed myself some water.

I heard the door open behind me, along with two pairs of steps coming in. I didn't even bother looking his way before he was safely chained to my table and the guard was out.

"Hi, I'm your.. " I choked on my words as soon as my eyes landed on Happy's face. Although not only did I choke on my words, I also choked on the water that I had tried to use to cover up the reaction I had to seeing him.

Gathering my fast-moving thoughts and daring to look at him again, I instantly noticed the ominous smirk on his face and I couldn't be sure, whether it was brought on by my inability to act normal or simply the fact that he found it funny that it was me who he was supposed to have a psychological chat with.

I on the other hand was far from seeing any of this as fun. More like the exact opposite.

"Clair," I finished my sentence, just before I realized that altogether it came out as 'Hi, I'm your Clair'. "I mean I'm the court-appointed psychiatrist."

He just stared at me with his pitch-black eyes. "Shit," I muttered in my head as I felt my knee starting to tremble under his observing gaze. I really needed to sit down- to cover up the shaking as well as to stop him from looking me up and down.

Out of words, I grabbed for the file and hoped for him to say something before I managed to make the matters even worse.

He didn't'. He just continued staring at me, the weight of his gaze landing heavy on my chest.

"So… I read here you had a little joy-ride with someone who actually didn't find it so joyful?" I tried to go on like a professional would, although I doubted a real professional would ever feel the need to ease her nerves by secretly squeezing a squishi ball under the table.

He leaned back on his chair as much as the chain allowed him to.

"Nothing to say about that? Okay, let's talk about something else then," I wasn't actually expecting him to simply start spilling the beans, but it was worth the shot. In reality I knew that first I needed to find my way in somehow. "Or he could find his way into you," a devilish voice in my head declared.

Instantly I felt my cheeks go hot under his now a bit different gaze.

"What are you thinking about?" he demanded in his gravelly tone.

"I'm thinking about wanting to help you. What are you thinking about?" I answered, hoping the red in my face wasn't so obvious.

"I'm thinking you're full of shit. That look on your face is exactly the same as the one you had the last time you ate me up with your eyes. By all means, come and get it," he motioned at his groin with his head.

"Excuse me?" I gasped, shocked by his blunt suggestion.

"I bet you tight up bitches dream about getting some from guys like me," he smirked, eyes hovering over my shirt. As it turned out yet again, he was just as blunt with his words as he was with his thoughts.

I had to fight with myself not to throw the tiny ball in my hands right at his face. How dared he talk to me like that? And did he just call me a bitch?

"I beg your pardon?" I was actually getting angry now.

"Only thing you should beg for is my dick."

I could see it in his face, he was loving the reaction he got from me.

I couldn't even tell whether he was provoking me just for fun, or cause he wanted us to stay off topic, or if he really thought he could get with me simply by talking like that- whatever it was, deep in my head I knew needed to remain calm, even as the need to lung something at him was still going strong.

Suddenly I felt like I was a ticking time bomb and he was the one with the pair of scissors. And to hell if I knew if his next words were going to cut the red or the blue chord.

"Considering my offer?" Happy asked after a minute of silence accompanied by a glaring contest.

A short one, yeah I know. I'm running a bit late, so please forgive me.

As always a big thank you to everyone who has read and followed/ faved/ reviewed. You guys rock my world!