The voice... The built... The name of the plaque... 

Adam sat down and looked at the man on the other side of the table. 

It was... him...

Ah, of course. Mark couldn't risk them putting another Mr. Harris in charge so... He somehow filled the position with... Alice's murderer.

The man who sent her to a hospital where she fought for her life for hours in vain, with his face on full display, so similar to...

Similar hair, chin, ears, and nose, safe for a small bump along the bridge. A slight... gravelier voice, a bit paler, no freckles, with darker, brown eyes and thinner eyebrows... It was like looking at a bootleg of Mark. A tired, older bootleg, with heavy eyebags impossible to fully conceal under the make-up, a couple of gray hair from stress, and a few small scars where he'd probably nicked himself badly while shaving, like Mark did a few times before changing to an electric shaver--

Adam hooked one of his feet around the chair's leg, pulling himself against his seat as the inside of his mouth began to taste like blood, fists clenched so tight to the inside of his pockets that his knuckles hurt.

Breathe in, breathe out.

He couldn't. Not here. But one day... One day... He too would hang and rot...

Breathe in, breathe out.

“Do you want a signed picture or ...?” The newly hired... counselor asked--

...Counselor?!

“Are you actually like, an actual counselor?” Adam questioned.

The man looked down and pointed at the small plaque on the table.

“The plaque on the table says so, doesn't it?”

Adam stared at him, his fist trembling with renewed ra--

“It also says your name is JEREMY BONES! ...But no way that's your actual name.” Adam pointed out between gritted teeth, trying to not full blown yell.

“Hm. Might as well be.” He shrugged, leaning back and taking another sip of his Diamond Beast.

“How are you even here?” Adam questioned, as there was no way Bones, Mark's family mercenary and child murderer, just happened to be a CERTIFIED SCHOOL COUNSELOR! Did they skip the background checks? It hadn't even been a week, they definitely cut corners in the hiring process-- Did Mark bribe whoever was in charge of picking a new counselor? Or maybe he had Bones threaten them? 

The man stared at him for a second, looking deep in thought.

“That is... A good question. Random change I guess? Some would say it's god's plan or whatever, but I'm an atheist so, I think it's just pure randomness that any of us are here, you know? What about you? Are you religious? How do you think we... got to be here?”

...

Was this real? No, surely... Was he high? Was there a gas leak? Was his brain giving out? He hadn't been sleeping well, but... Was Bones just messing with him? Did Mark tell him to become the new counselor just to PISS HIM OFF!? Or was Bones high? It was barely first period, and the paper basket by the desk already had four Beast cans in it. He was definitely on enough caffeine to give the average person a stroke... and maybe crack. Or heroin. Whichever would make you... How would Spice say it again? Hand a bird when asked for a duster. 

“Ok. Why, of all people qualified for the job, did they hire you?” Adam specified, slowly, as if talking with a genie. Let's see him 'not understand' the question now... “Are you actually qualified to be a school counselor? Is that your actual name?”

“Oh. Well, that's a trade secret, Adam. Hmm... maybe? And for the foreseeable future, yes.”

For fucks sake, it was like talking with--

...

Was he...

“Are you and Mark related by any chance? Like, by blood?”

“Hm, how did you guess?”

Adam sank into the chair.

So, the Jones's family private hitman was part of the family. Was their inside guy in the public guard also part of the family?

“Let me guess. You're his secret older half-brother?” No one knew Mark existed before his father had to take him in, wouldn't be that surprising if the guy had yet another son no one knew about... Seriously, what’s with rich people having a bunch of illegitimate kids and hiding them? Surely they could afford a condom. Or an abortion. Or both just to be safe. Mark's father should've worn a condom and aborted him

“No.”

Adam rested his head on a closed fist and squinted at the man.

“...This cousin?” He vaguely remembered Oliver Jones's Wikipedia page mentioning a sister.

“Ding-ding-ding, correct! Your prize is... Oh, here.” He open a drawer and took out a fucking hambester-- Oh fuck! Who just--

Adam looked closely at the rodent that had nearly flown over his head, poking and squishing it... 

“Is this supposed to be a stress ball?”Adam questioned, watching the cute rodent's eyes bulge out with every squeeze.

“Yes.”

“Why do you have this?” Adam questioned, looking at the shiny and pristine barcode sticker still attached to the toy.

“Well, I'm a school counselor, right? I'm supposed to help keep students calm and happy or whatever, so I went ahead and got a few cute stress balls, those praise stickers, and mini coloring kits. Kids love those, right?”

Adam leaned over the table a bit, just enough to look into the drawer filled with colorful emotional bribes, and then looked at his prize.

 “Can I have a coloring kit instead?” The pencils in those kits tended to be shit, but he at least had a use for those. What was he supposed to do with a stress ball? Well it was a cute stress ball and it'd probably be really nice to chew on... Nah, he wanted the pencils--

“No, trust me, you need that more. You have many, many issues, Adam.”

“What? No I don't--”

“And I could waste our time trying to list them, but you'd only keep justifying yourself and we would get nowhere so... Let's just get on with it, starting with your anger issues.” The man rolled his eyes, taking the last few sips of the can and crushing it with his hands. “You need to learn to control your anger, Adam. I can tell you're good at keeping it contained already, even if it's just to stay out of trouble, but you also need to be able to reel it back in once released.”

“I know how to control my anger just fi--”

“Adam, I bet that if David hadn't pulled you off of Richard, you'd have gone for seconds... You need to learn to control your anger.”

Adam sank into the seat, his arms crossed.

This shit again?! It was self-defense-- Who the FUCK was he to judge him?! He killed innocent people money--

“I can tell you're already trying to address the issue. Did Mr. Jenkins teach you that? The breathing exercises?”

Adam sighed. He was only there to fill the position, why-- Why was he trying to make sense of whatever went on in Bones's head? He killed people for money-- He was a Jones! Mark's cousin, of course he'd-- Whatever he didn't fucking care and wasn't going to humor whatever game this was, the 'counselor' could talk to the wall for the next hour and--

*CRASH*

...

The man got up and threw the can in the trash, then grabbed a small broom and dustpan from a cabinet, and cleaned up that DAMNED CLOCK THAT ALWAYS REFUSED TO FUCKING MOVE WHEN HE NEEDED IT MOST--

Adam didn't acknowledge the knocking at the door. 

“Mr. Bones? Is everything alright?” The security guard, a new addition to protocol, questioned, peeking her head through the door. “What happened?”

“I don't know, the piece that held the clock on the wall must have given out?” He lied, the words flowing out as natural as a breath.

“I see. Anyone hurt?” She asked, looking at Adam.

He didn't bother returning her gaze, instead staring blankly ahead, hands now devoid of the cute stress toy.

Maybe now, Bones would give him a pencil pack instead...

“No, everything is fine.” Bones said, standing up straight, dustpans contents still hidden away from sight by his body. “You may go.”

The woman looked around the room and at Adam one last time, before nodding and leaving with a small click of the door.

“You know, normally breaking school property leads to an automatic 3-day suspension.” The man said, picking the toy from the pan and putting it on the table, then tossing the broken wall clock into the trash.

“You're here specifically to avoid having someone send me away, you won't suspend me.” Adam said, looking at the toy glittering with small glass shards. “My prize is destroyed, can I have a pencil pack instead?”

“No.” The man put the broom and dustpan by the paper basket and grabbed the toy, making quick work of all the glittering. “The last thing you need is anything remotely sharp.”

Adam sighed and took the toy back. Fuck it, it's not like those pencils were good anyway... At least the hambester was cute.

“Adam, from now on, if you're feeling irritated, on top of your breathing exercises, you'll be taking out your agresion on that toy. And only that toy. Understood?” The man prescribed. 

Adam sighed. He wasn't getting out of his stupid ass roleplay, was he?

“Yes, Dr. Bones.”

“Just Bones is fine, please.”

“Whatever.”

The man sighed.

“Very well, now... We still have some time...” The man said, looking at the clock on the small stationary phone. “So, why don't we just relax a little, hm?”

“...Sure.” Yeah, he totally wanted to relax with the guy that killed one of his friends.

“Hmm... Oh, I heard they're reopening your mom's case. That's good, right?”