Lucy had no idea what to expect when she set foot in the counsellor's office. All the same decoration was in place; posters for mental health, student initiatives, extracurriculars, and all the other services available. It was just as colourful and inviting as it had been when Mr Cohen was there. Only now it was someone new, a man she had not met before.

"Come in, and have a seat."

She closed the door and sat on one of the chairs in front of the desk. The new counsellor was behind it. He was in his 30s; tall, athletic, in smart conservative attire. Auburn hair, only just long enough to be tied behind his head, light brown eyes, a sparse spray of freckles on either side of the nose and small rectangular spectacles, worn close to the face. There was an even-tempered reservation to him, and she didn't know quite what to make of that from first glance.

"Sorry. I don't actually know your name, Mr ... ?"

"Darren will do fine. Formality isn't needed." A smile flitted across his face, warm but very brief, a passing expression that was serviceable but not truly emotional. "You would be Miss Atkinson."

"The one and only." She shrugged. "Not trying to be rude or anything, but what am I doing here?"

"Ah, yes." Darren sat back in the swivel chair. "I have questions to ask you about the welfare of another student."

Oh, it was someone else? If it had anything to do with that time with Charlene, she wasn't going to let this go. Stupid cow had it coming.

"Is this about when I tripped up that bitch Charley in gym three weeks ago? Because she was asking for it. Lucky she didn't get-"

"Language, Miss Atkinson." Darren stopped her, frowning. "No, this has nothing to do with Miss Brinkley. I am referring to your friend Mr Wilde."

Oh.

"Torsten?" Lucy asked. "He's about as clean as you can get. What'd he do?"

"He hasn't done anything. At least, not at school."

"What do you mean?"

Darren rolled the pen he was using between his fingers idly as he spoke. "It was reported to me that Torsten has been particularly fatigued the last couple of weeks, and also that he has been acting unusually. Yesterday, a concerned individual noticed cuts and marks on Torsten's hands and wrists."

"Cuts?" She blinked. "Wait, what? What are you saying?"

"I was told you are his best friend. It is my job to notice these signs, and they are troubling. If there is something going on in his home life, then it is important we know."

Cuts? There's no way. He would tell me if he were truly upset.

There was NO way.

Yet, she knew something was going on with him. Just not what that thing was.

Darren tilted his head forward, gazing serenely over the rims of his glasses, and spoke again.

"Miss Atkinson, you must tell me everything you know."

There was a subtle change in his voice and she felt it, somehow; a swirling invisible fog of suggestion that came with the words. It seemed to cling to her, and was trying to pull her towards agreement, and it was slippery and hungry and ... impossible.

What ... the FUCK ... is going on?

"What are you doing?" She shrugged the feeling off, casting it away, nose wrinkling as the situational confusion turned towards being pissed off.

No-one messes with my head.

"I'm sorry?" Uncomprehending, he frowned, but she caught it, just for the moment, a burst of surprise and possibly ... shock? The real feelings were well hidden behind his faked psychological screen, but she knew they were there. "What I said is clear."

"Is it?" She breathed. "Maybe you should explain."

"I don't need to do that." He leaned forward a little more, and the sensation restarted, with added intensity. "You will do as you are asked."

It was extraordinary, stronger and more heady, a prickling heat that wanted one thing and it was the wisest and best course of action to agree. She had to agree, she was going to agree, it was the right thing to do. There was really no other way.

All she had to do was tell him everything that he wanted to know.

Except ... no.

She was Lucy.

Not happening. Not like this. It's gonna take a lot more to force me.

Her nose wrinkled further, and she glared at him, scornful.

"I don't think so, Darren."

He stared back, the pressure evaporating in a heartbeat, the attempt done.

"Just who are you, anyways?" She glanced at all the posters and junk on the walls. "You've still got all Mr Cohen's stuff hanging up. He was kind of a buzzkill and a bit of a prude, but he loved this job. Where did he go? Why did he quit and you start in the middle of the term?"

"Faculty appointments aren't your concern." Darren continued to watch her, dragging the conversation back to where he wished it. "You would be wise not to overstep your bounds, Miss Atkinson."

"Oh, you want to talk about 'overstepping', is that it?" Lucy folded her arms. "This is coming from the guy who asked me to spy on my best friend and blabber about it out of some false 'concern'. Is that even legal?"

"In this state, it is."

"Pff." She huffed. "What about ethical? Moral? You know what those mean, right? I don't know what sort of voodoo shit you think you're trying on me -- oh, and yes, I said a cuss word, what a terrible young lady I am! -- but I'm not your toy." She tilted her head a little, eyes wide. "You reading my lips? Not. Your. Toy."

Darren's voice rose and he sat upright in his chair; still serious, but much less collected and composed. "You need to check your ego and stop your flights of fancy. This is about what is best for Mr Wilde."

"What's 'best for him', huh? You're so full of shit. I've known Torsten for twelve years. I'll be my own judge on what's good for him and what isn't. So here's my message to you." She stood, took a step towards his desk, and flipped the bird to his face. "Fuck off."

Then, Lucy turned and exited the room, slamming the door behind her.

For a good few seconds Darren sat motionless, wordless, eyes fixed on the door, then he leaned back and gazed out the window. The red grading ballpoint tapped in leisurely thoughtfulness on the edge of Torsten Wilde's folder as he considered the encounter with the Atkinson girl.

"Interesting." He murmured it to himself, lips curling into a tight cold smile. "Yes, very interesting."