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anger management

Anger Management and Emotional Control | Monday | Period 1

It was possible that one day, Bruce might deign to teach class in a room with actual rows of desks and things. He had done it all of once in first-aid class, after all. However, it was looking like Anger Management and Emotional Control was not going to be a repeat of that experience – at least not today, for the first session.

Instead, there was a circle of chairs. Yeah, like in group therapy. Except that Bruce, in all his genius, hadn't fully thought through the awkwardness of sitting among a group of people who could all see each other equally well, because the fact that one of his legs was jittering slightly was now uncomfortably obvious for all to see.

Great.

He set his hands on his knees to still the jittering somewhat. "Hi," he said. "I'm Dr. Banner, and we probably won't be sitting like this again. And this is Anger Management and Emotional Control."

He should have said those last two things in the opposite order, probably.

"Even though the title is pretty self-explanatory, I'll just sum up for the record that this class will be about the long-standing human – and, I expect, non-human as well – effort to consciously moderate emotional reactions for any reason. Sometimes, business executives take classes in anger management when they have reactive tempers and want to stop throwing tantrums in the middle of meetings. In other cases, gamblers and negotiators study how to mask their expressions so that they can't be called on their bluff at crucial moments. It can also be used to pass polygraph tests."

Not that he was encouraging lying to cops or anything. Just stating a fact.

"Some of the skills we'll be using are visualization, improvisation, and awareness of yourself and your own physicality," Bruce added. "With that in mind, let's spend a few minutes on introductions. Please say your name, something that interests you academically, and one or more physical tics or habits you exhibit from time to time. You don't have to tell us when or why you do it – just what the gesture is. For example, I sometimes scratch the back of my neck."

Which he recognized for what it was: a nervous habit. But it was deliberate and put-upon as often as it was sincere, so Bruce didn't mind it at all.

"Then, partner up with someone and try to have a conversation, standing up, without using your gesture. Partners, don't try too hard to get reactions out of each other – we'll save that for future classes – but just focus on keeping yourselves reactionless. See what happens."

With that, he glanced around the room, head tilted slightly in the universal signal for 'Any questions?', and then gave a nod. "Let's get to the introductions, then."

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Wait, did this assignment mean that Evan had to maintain eye-contact?

He was looking even more nervous as he looked around the circle for a partner. Maybe he should have said something about straightening his tie as a tic, instead.

[ooc: Spotty availability through the day, but I'll ping when I can!]

"This sucks." Hello to you too, kitten, and Surreal managed to look angrier than usual. "How much trouble will I get in if I blow off the rest of the semester?"

"I suppose it depends who you're here for class for," Evan replied, blinking at Surreal. "You didn't pick this one yourself, I'm guessing?"

Surreal made a face and slouched lower in her chair. "No, Sadi picked it," she answered sourly. "Sadist acts like he's my father or something."

"You?"

"I picked this class myself," Evan replied, biting his lip and trying not to fidget as he kept his eyes on Surreal. "I need better self-control. People get hurt, otherwise."

People he didn't want to hurt.

"The Darkness gave me this temper for a reason," Surreal shrugged in response. "I was born angry and I'll probably die angry. Witches like me don't usually die in our sleep."

"Apparently, neither do kids like me." And that had been a hard lesson for Evan to learn, too. He frowned, gave his shoulders a shrug, and then added, softly, "It usually takes a lot to make me angry, but things kind of explode when I am."

That was not hyperbole.

"Like..." Surreal asked, miming an explosion with her fingers, "Or just violence? People usually end up maimed or dead when I lose my temper, but in my defense, most of them deserve it." Beat. "Okay, almost all of them deserve it."

Evan nodded and mimicked her gesture, miming the explosion right back.

"Boom," he added, for emphasis. "And I guess most of the people I've gone 'boom' at have kind of had it coming, too... but the last time that happened, a guy who's been around since practically the dawn of time had to beat me to the ground to bring me back to my senses."

Just getting angry wasn't the issue, really. It was the all-out berserker mode that he hit when he was pushed too far.

"Well that's stupid." Surreal, tact. Please. "I mean, I'll fight until the last one is down if I'm going to win, or if there's a reason to keep going, but what's the good of a boom if you can't direct it?"

Evan's shoulders shrugged, and he was halfway to ducking his head to look at the floor when he caught himself and looked up again.

"I guess it gets my point across..."

But that was about it.

Oh, and severe property damage. That was a thing, too.

Property damage was great! Surreal loved property damage!

"Could say that," she agreed, leaning back and trying to balance her chair on the back two legs without Craft. "I mean, if you like showy."

"I think I'd actually rather avoid showy if I can manage it," Evan replied, biting his lip. "Bad things tend to happen when people notice me."

And yet, at the same time, he wanted to be recognized as a hero. Kind of. Mostly.

It was complicated.

"I'm noticing you right now and nothing's happening," Surreal pointed out. "So, it's not like you BOOM without warning, right?"

"Well, I have to be mad first, but... yeah. I kind of do."

He was starting to look a little tense. Yeah, he definitely should have picked some tic that would have let him break eye contact.

He was looking tense, wasn't he? "You know, you could look at my breasts, or my hair or earrings, and it doesn't count as looking at the floor," Surreal offered cheerfully. "You're still looking at me."

It was possible she enjoyed being perversely contrary. And she knew it was going to make him flail.

Or, if not flail, at least blush profusely and make a bit of a squeaking sound before going wide-eyed. He was totally wondering if he could go hide under a chair now or something.

"... I... Um. Yeah, I guess I could. I mean. Um!"

Maybe he'd just look at her shoulder. Yep. That was totally a shoulder was was not in any way her breasts, nope.

No, but it was a shoulder she could roll and stretch her neck side-to-side before stretching her well-muscled arms above her head. "Better?" she asked, totally innocently.

"N-not really."

Could Evan just curl up and disappear now? Could that be a thing?

Surreal just laughed uproariously, almost losing her balance in the chair. "Loosen up, kitten," she teased. "I'm a female. There's lots of them around here, you can't be afraid of body parts like shoulders at your age. They don't bite,"

"I bet some shoulders do," Evan mumbled, though his quest to keep eye contact was smashed well and thoroughly as his gaze dropped down toward the floor and he blushed even more.

"Mine don't have teeth," Surreal mused, poking at her own shoulder with one finger speculatively. "At least, not last I looked. I mean, if were still half-fed and bony, I could see getting cut by the bones, but no biting. You know many girls with angry teeth on their arms?"

"You'd be surprised," Evan replied, glancing up again and shrugging. "There were a few students at my last school with spikes coming out of their arms. One girl was made of crystal and could shape it, at least a little..."

So... Yeah, sure. Why not?

"You go to weird schools." Thank you, Surreal, we are all rather sure Evan knows that. "Were they Kindred?"

"... Kindred?"

It was probably safe to assume by the blank look he was wearing that Evan had no idea what that meant.

"Kindred," she repeated, for once floundering with what she wanted to say. "-- not kind. Of our kind, that is. Those of the Blood, or mutant, in your case, who walk on four legs - or more - and not shaped like people."

"Oh..." Evan blinked, and then slowly shook his head. "No. No, I don't think that's the same thing at all, then. We're kind of just... all people. And some of us might be blue or made of crystals or rocks or covered in eyes, and one of the girls at my old school can turn into a shark, but we're all the same kind. Most of us had human parents. And, if not human, then mutant, too."

Or else they were clones. That seemed to be a surprisingly popular option.

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Anger Management and Emotional Control | Monday | Period 1

Pair up and talk!

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