Tea time for psychos [Jessan and Jiru]

[nozomi]

Another gentleman to be seen, another day of Jessans work never being done. This particular prisoner, Warden himself advised her to look over, file-wise. How hoity-toity. Jessan had obliged him, of course, giving the mans file a quick look over.

And, damn.

She wanted to meet him after that little read. Everything under the Red Star could be blamed on this prisoner, including rape, the one thing her dearest brother absolutely refused to acknowledge. Wonderful! Lovely! Even a woman such as herself found great interest in someone this deep into her Craft of choice. Jiruyno was why Mindhealers came into being for this very reason.

Jessan set up the appointment with as much excitement as she could muster, settled primly on her designated stool, ankles crossed and her hands folded on the curve of her lap. In waiting for Jiruyno, she'd requested some tea to be brought to her little office. Cold, of course, since there were going to have a prisoner there and it wouldn't do for there to be hot things in the cell. Granted, with a prisoner like Jiruyno, with no known violence record in the prison to date, and killed through something that didn't require physical force, only rape victims being two men... Well, that just meant she was allowed to have cold, sweetened tea in the cell to sip at while she waited.

And, if he so desired, the psychopath could even have some himself.

Delightful.

[giftwrapped]

Shackles were unpleasant. It almost made him wish for the cold solitude of his cell. ...Not that it was particularly cold at all in Southern. But he did so miss his offices and laboratory at Half-Circle, where he had a pleasant view of the ocean, if you ignored the docks where his clientele tended to lurk...

But ah, there were many things Jiruyno missed. And if wishes were dragons, then beggars would fly. No point torturing himself in this way. At least he was out, he thought to himself, as he assumed the unbecoming shuffle of a man shackled wrist and ankle (they took the added precaution of the thin chain run from wrist-shackles to ankle-shackles, to prevent him from lifting his hands and touching the faces of his guards - they had threatened a straitjacket otherwise the last time he had cupped a hand under a young guardsman's chin, but Jiruyno had wisely chosen the chain over immobility). At least he was out and going somewhere more interesting than the usual dank misery of Warden's.

They were taking him to see a mindhealer. Warden's orders, one of the guards had grunted, all the violent prisoners (ah, but he hated the term 'violent'. It implied a desire to dirty one's hands and make a messy fool of oneself) were to see the new woman. But something in his bearing had suggested that there was more to it than simply a new routine for prisoners. And Jiruyno was curious to see precisely what it was. It briefly crossed his mind that he might have met the Mindhealer in passing, in his turns at the Hall. She (one of the guards had let the pronoun slip) would almost undoubtedly know his name from Hall gossip, if not from his moments of fame and infamy.

But as the door opened and one of his two guards followed him in, he was displeased to realize he didn't recognize the young woman. After his time, perhaps. Or perhaps she had been so enmeshed in the foolish theoretical aspects of the psyche that she hadn't bothered to attend classes in proper healing. His lips curved into a smile that had nothing to do with pleasure at meeting the woman, an unpleasant expression that sat badly on a face much better-suited to solemnity.

"Mindhealer," he remarked simply, inclining his head slightly and standing in the doorway. Sharp grey eyes swept the room: three chairs, attractive woman, and....teapot. An eyebrow lifted slightly; 'violent' prisoners weren't supposed to be allowed such luxuries as ceramics...or access to anything that could be broken and used as a knife. Perhaps this would be more interesting than he had expected, after all. The peculiar smile stayed.

"You asked for me?"

[nozomi]

Oh, my, wasn't he a pretty one, even without the hair. Jessan stood when the prisoner entered the room, cool eyes sweeping over the entirety of him before looking the murderer in the eyes. She smiled anyway, a calm curve of the lips in a stark contrast to Jiru's own expression. A polite bow in order, before she spoke.

"Healer." Jessan nodded, chin tucking down to follow his gaze to the tea. She gestured towards the cups and chairs, settling back down herself. Her ankles crossed, Jessan reached for the teapot, and filled her cup once more. "Please, call me Jessan. Would you mind horribly if I called you by your name? Titles can be a strain on attempting to uphold a civil conversation."

Once Jiru sat, Jessan held up the teapot in an offering. And smiled.

"You don't have a history of violence, so the Warden has allowed us to have cups for this purpose, at my request. It's cold tea, but it's good. No one has been able to inform me on whether or not you enjoyed it. Would you like a cup? There's plenty, and even with it being winter, it's quite warm outside." Jessan shrugged, her smile still in place, eyes searching Jiru's face.

[giftwrapped]

Ah, she smiled back. Met his eyes.

Wouldn't this be interesting.

"I have no title any longer, my dear," he answered easily, his emphasis on the word 'dear' not at all the gentle fatherly type that it should have been in such a context. "Except, I suppose, prisoner," He sneered the word, but then it was gone and his voice was light, almost pleasant again. He traced his eyes along Jessan's features deliberately, gaze lingering on her lips, her throat, her chest. She dressed modestly. How very quaint. The slightly-cruel smile disappeared, though, as he sat, taking the seat that put him most directly across from Jessan and resting his hands briefly on his lap.

She offered the teapot, and for a moment, his expression was one of genuine surprise. He leaned forward, reaching out to take it, only to be distracted by the jingle of chain binding his wrists to his ankles. The surprise was gone, then, replaced by a deep-seated disgust that all but burned as he glanced down at the shackles. But then that, too, was gone, and Jiruyno returned to the comfortable, if formal, position he had been sitting in, nodding to the pot with a look of polite neutrality. "I would take some, should you be willing to pour for me. It seems the guards' paranoia," and here he made a soft noise that could have masked a dismissive snort, "has deprived me of such basic abilities."

Again, there was the minute curl of his lip, the violent contempt masked in the peculiar, expressionless expression. "I would know little about the weather," he added after a moment, gazing out the window with a look that was equal parts bored and listless. "They reserve such privileges as 'outside' for the nonviolent types." And the slight sneer in his voice was unmistakeable. Faranth, six months had certainly done a number on Jiruyno's ability to mask his feelings. Or perhaps he simply felt no need to hide himself away entirely before the Mindhealer. He knew the confidentiality rulings, though he doubted they would be followed to a T in a place like this. But what did it matter? Let her run to the guards and Warden. Let her tell them that he hated the other prisoners. If it was news to them, they were even stupider than he thought.

"And anyway, it is damp," he added, and here he let the disgust shine through entirely. "Whatever else a stone building is, it is watertight in a way that nature is not."

[nozomi]

Was he looking at her breasts?

The prisoner was looking at her breasts.

Bound down and all but flat, Jessan could only imagine why, with there being more than a few likely scenerios: intimidation, sexual interest because women were scarce, sexual intrest because people were scarce, or, probably, even more intimidation. Jessan did not mind a patient trying to scare her into thinking they were the vicious killers they were - everyone needed to play their part. If she were shackled hand and foot, hair gone, and thrust into this place, she would do everything in her power to make sure that people were on edge around her as well. Isn't that what she did anyway?

Even Jiru's anger did little to dissuad that smile, or the tip of her hands as Jessan began to pour the tea. "It would have been rude for me to expect you to pour your own tea anyway, Jiruyno. No matter our surroundings, I've requested your presence and you are my guest. Guests should not have to serve themselves." The women at her father's house would have been proud of the manners, or something akin to that.

She set the teapot gently back onto the tabletop, and pushed the cup to Jiru so he could take hold of it. Jessan took a sip of her own, settling back down to watch the Healer. One of her eyebrows arched scant seconds before she glanced to the doorway, the guards just outside of the little cage of her office lurking. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Jessan sipped instead.

"What would have made the guards think you needed to have you chained like that? You are hardly one of those throat-slashing, disembowling sort of gentleman." Even they were simply shackled, or in a straitjacket. She wrapped her fingers more comfortably around the cup, amusement curling over the edges of her voice. Purple prose? Maybe. It fit. The cheer soon faded to something more curious, calm, and Jessan tapped the edge of her cup thoghtfully with the tip of one finger.

"You don't consider yourself a violent prisoner, even without the behaviour here, Jiruyno?" And she set the cup down, although her fingers did not release the plain vessel.

[giftwrapped]

She had manners. Impeccable manners. And for some reason, Jiruyno approved. He watched as she poured, nodded almost graciously when she slid the cup toward him, and reached out. The jingle of the chain brought another expression of irritation to the man's face, but he banished it in an instant; a mere twitch of his mouth, and nothing more. He took the cup smoothly, turning it over in his hands and considering it for a moment. Hardly fine china, but porcelain...it was strange. It felt odd, to be trusted even that small amount.

Silly girl. She ought not have trusted. She ought to have been afraid like the rest. The game was more fun that way.

"They do not like me touching them," he answered the mindhealer's question dismissively, with a demure shrug of one shoulder. "Perhaps they are uncomfortable with their feelings toward me," he added without a change in tone or expression, maintaining his blank neutrality with ease as he rearranged himself, leaning down awkwardly to sip the tea. Cold, but sweet. It was better than nothing, and certainly better than the water he was usually given. But when Jessan's set her cup down, the click of porcelain on wood caught his attention and he glanced up, meeting her gaze through bangs that were just finally getting long enough to fall into his eyes again.

He had missed that, the ability to eye people through a curtain of hair. He half-lidded his eyes for good measure, quirking the slightest of ironic smiles as he did so. "Violent?" He answered her question with another question, straightening up in his seat and shifting so he was still watching Jessan from a slightly oblique angle. "No, I am not violent." He cleared his throat, then, shifting a little, straightening up, though he always kept his face angled slightly to Jessan. He would not look her full in the face. Let her think it was fear or shiftiness.

"I cause no harm. I do not break bones or cut skin. The mark of my hand has never been found on a single body, live or dead. Were I unshackled right now, I would do nothing. I would not raise my hand to anyone in anger or with an intent to hurt." His expression, then, shifted. For a moment, he gave her another of those smiles that sat on his face in a way that was subtly wrong. "I am a healer, my dear, we do not harm for its own sake. You should know this."

[nozomi]

"Ah. The touching issue." Jessan arched an eyebrow, smiling even then when Jiruyno met her gaze. Such a charming man, in his own way. Oh, not violent enough for her to keep all things away from him, but enough so that Jessan would be making sure to get that bit of ceramic back from him, come the end of their session. The corner of her lip twitched in something that could be called amusement. "You're quite lucky they put the chains on as opposed to the straitjacket. They take the touching thing seriously around here - Warden especially dislikes the idea of prisoners becoming handsy."

"Of course, quite a few things Warden dislikes." A small shrug of her shoulder, and Jessan took a quiet sip of her tea once more. When Jiru started to move in his seat, sounding for all the world an indignant young man being told he had a punk's haircut, she glanced up. He had an odd way of looking at her - or not, rather. Curious. Intimidation factors typically liked to stare dead at her, and smile some Machi-esque smile.

Like that one, that he just gave her, just before talking about not harming people.

Right.

Shards, she loved the crazy ones.

She smiled politely back, and the tea cup abandoned. Delicate fingers curled against one another instead, her head cocked to the side, and Jessan leaned in further. "I believe the term 'violent' is used to indicate any prisoner that has been found guilty of harm to a person through direct actions of the prisoner. Considering the nature of your sentence here, you tend to fall into the woefully narrow definition. I have no doubt you are not a violent man, Jiruyno, but I am curious - what do you call everything that happened? The accusations? The Dust?"

Her eyebrow rose, and that smile didn't waver.

"Please, explain to me why it is you are here? You say you did no harm. May I ask why it is you feel that way?" Murder, by any means, was pretty much 'harming' someone as far as Jessan knew. Machi called it cleaning up the streets, or gaining revenge. Jessan just described it as death. Unlike Machi, Jiruyno had the brains to think for himself, and the ability to drag what it was he wanted from the world with nary a glance. "I'm curious."

[giftwrapped]

"They threatened the straitjacket."

And again, the distaste bloomed in his voice, irritation practically crackling off the words. "They threatened and I agreed to...contain myself and accept the chain instead." His lips quirked again for a moment, and he glanced sideways at Jessan, giving her another of those horrifyingly dangerous smiles. She wasn't afraid of him. But that didn't mean he wouldn't quietly continue his game. He could wear away at her. There would be a weak point and when he found it...he wouldn't attack. He wouldn't strike. But he would calmly chip at it until the flaw was pronounced enough that it shattered on its own.

It was what he had done with his apprentice - regrettable as that was.

And then, ah! Then the questions began. For a moment, Jiruyno's eyes closed and he sipped his tea, an expression that might have been genuine amusement (it was difficult to tell, with the way his mouth never quite seemed to quirk into a real smile) on his face. Until she asked for the explanation. At that the eyes opened, and the man watched Jessan intently, watching her with the same mild curiosity that he might have given a particularly interesting animal test subject. And then Jessan finished, and he shifted slightly, leaning back somewhat in the seat, tea momentarily neglected.

She had certainly asked a lot of questions, but one in particular stuck in his mind. What do you call everything that happened? There were a great number of responses, things he had told others. It was a misunderstanding, a deliberate framing of evidence to ruin his reputation. It was the work of petty, vengeful, jealous healers. They were all lies, of course. He knew full well why he had killed them. Disgust. They were dirtying his streets. And it had been unacceptable.

"What do I call it?" he asked, light tenor voice as musical as if he were discussing some new chemical formula, or introducing a pet firelizard (ah...that stung. He had not been particularly attached to his pair, but the death of something that shared your mind, even the slightest bit, was distressing). Then, precisely, with all the care of someone making a fuss about showmanship, he turned to face Jessan fully. Head tilted down, glancing up through his hair still, he smiled a full smile.

It showed teeth.

It was not the smile of a balanced, innocent man.

"Mercy."

[nozomi]

How is it she either got the prisoners with the nervous disorders or the batshit insane?

Jessan didn't mind the crazies and the disorders, she saw nothing wrong in treating those who could not treat themselves. Even those that could, sort of, assist their own mental state, they needed a push. She had dealt with depression, the young people who talked to themselves, and twitched when they moved. Jessan even grew up with Machi. Somehow, she attracted them. And Jiruyna - Jiruyno, she just invited in, and for tea never the less!

"Mercy." Jessan murmured the word, testing the word with the idea she - thought? - he was getting at. Under the long sleeves, the hairs of her arm prickled up. Even so, she smiled, and shifted closer. Jiru, damn him, looked still pretty under the Creeper Mask he wore so well.

(Jessan felt quite sure it failed to be a mask years back, and merely the entirety of his face, but regardless, she had to pretend to think he was sane in there somewhere.)

"Forgive me if I am being rude, Jiruyno." Jessan shifted, her little hands falling to her lap, and body relaxing in the chair. He smiled that way either out of an attempt to scare her, or insanity. Maybe both. Either way, he had the choice to drink his tea like a good boy, or attack her. She bet on the tea, and kept her tone neutral and light. "But your acts of mercy seem to include violent death, though not at your direct hands. What did the individuals do to require your mercy?"

In her mind, she could see them - Dusters. Her brothers boy died like Jiru's victims did, and it never struck her as the sort of death anyone would desire. Nor was stabbing, or beating, or whatever else happened but - still. Jessan almost wanted him to lie; she found lies to be almost more telling than the actual truth, as she had told a few of her clients. They never believed her. Maybe Jiruyno, and his smile, would.

[giftwrapped]

As quickly as it had come, that dangerous smile was gone, replaced by a demure expression, eyes downcast, the kind of look one would expect to see on some polite young woman meeting her betrothed for the first time. Jiruyno didn't look to Jessan for a while, choosing instead to sip his tea and inspect the cup. It was more than half empty at this point, and he would soon be running out. Strange, how the small luxury he had been afforded was gone so quickly. But that was how the world worked, now that he wasn't the one standing behind a curtain and pulling the strings that made others dance.

That was, perhaps, what infuriated him the most. The fact that he was no longer in control of his situation. He drained the teacup, then stared again into it, at the dregs that remained. "They say that looking at your tea leaves lets you see into the future," he remarked, and his voice was almost musical again, as conversational as if he had never had that strange episode, that flash of insanity where he let the mask fall. It had been intentional, of course, but it was that, that dangerous smile, that was the real Jiruyno now, not the thin veneer of culture.

"I don't believe it," he remarked, setting the cup down, but not before tilting it so Jessan could see the bottom. There were no dregs in it at all, no leaves whatsoever. "The superstitious ones never accounted for what would happen if you drank the dregs." And there, he quirked a smile. This one was not the same as the mad one he had given Jessan. It was something different. He leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes for a moment. For that brief space of time, it was as if he had forgotten the conversation entirely. But even as he sat, eyes closed, head tilted back, he spoke.

"You have, I trust, seen Dust addicts, Mindhealer. Filthy habit. It turns men into little more than animals. No, less than animals. At least many animals have the good sense to avoid that which is poisonous to them. Or so they say." His tone was light, but the music was gone from it now. Monotone and blank, he continued the drone of words. "It reduces the best of men to the worst of filth. They pollute the streets, their Holds...they pollute the world around them. Their families, friends...everyone they come in contact with. They disgrace themselves."

His eyes stayed closed, position still easy (as easy as it could be when he was chained so specifically, reclining in an uncomfortable chair) and tension gone from his form. "It is better that their Dust be clean. So clean, in fact, that their high is perfect. They died without feeling anything but a rush of Dust to the system. Painlessly. Better than bled out in an alley over a dealer dispute or shot in the back running from Guardsmen, don't you think?"

"Better for them, and better for the world that they no longer be there to sully it."

[nozomi]

"Perhaps they did think of what would happen if one drank the dregs." It seemed rude to pour herself another cup when Jiru was so obviously finished with his. It had became time for only talk as soon as he began to talk about tea leaves, and actually brought up his crimes. With her head cocked and that patient quiet smile right there on her face. The lack of insanity in his smile struck more of a chord then the one full of crazy. "If the superstitious sorts have ideas of what a leaf being stuck to the side of a cup means, they may have known what nothing meant, and simply meant to forgoe it. Odder things have happened." Her lips twitched. "As I'm sure you know."

Jiru, that sly bastard, made it difficult to argue with him. Jessan even shared his idea about the Dusters - let them die in some back ally way, like her brothers creature. They made as pure Dust as possible without killing the addicts but ... Jessan could not find the idea of it unappealing. A profit loss, of course, but not as distasteful as some may think. Machi thought of them as humans, broken toys. Jessan tucked some hair behind her ears, and her eyes narrowed even further with her smile, as it warmed a fraction.

"I have counseled too many Dust addicts to remember, it's true." Her fingers spread, a helpless 'what can you do?', and Jessan shrugged. "The results of the drug are startling, even when one hears of all the symptoms. I stay away from the detoxification section of the Weyr. The polluting you speak of, does that mean you feel that way only about the street walking sort of Dusters, or all of them? There are quite a many high ranking and functioning men and women addicted to it."

Her eyebrow arched. "And on that matter, I had been under the impression you actually added something to the drug to make it an effective killing tool. You mean that your Dust was so concentrated it took their lives? Just pure fellis?"

Shards, she liked this man.

[giftwrapped]

"If you increase the dose properly and concentrate it, there's very little else you have to do."

For a moment, his head tilted down slightly, one of those startling grey eyes opening and fixing Jessan with an expression of shrewd calculation. That was not the question he expected of someone sent to rehabilitate the dangerous criminals with whom Warden's Weyr had been filled. But perhaps he was underestimating this woman. Or perhaps he had been ill-informed as to her real aim. If she were a proper mindhealer, doubtless she'd do little but assess those who were least stable and focus her efforts on those who had the potential to be "fixed." Jiruyno was not one of those, by any means.

Jiruyno didn't see himself as broken. The eye closed again, and his easy drone started, welling from his chest and almost sticking there, soft in his throat as he continued. "But on occasion there would be those who needed additional encouragement. There are chemicals that do nothing to alter the composition of the fellis. Things you can add that make it no less effective - simply more lethal. But I'm sure you have no interest in that sort of thing. Fussing with chemicals, medical formulae. All the things that the Hall doesn't want their precious apprentices thinking about. They like us safe and in-hand, like herdbeasts."

And the disgust returned to his tone. Eight turns ago, the Hall had wronged him. And he had shown them what happened when a Healer was wronged. Well, the rest of Pern had followed suit. His work had been taken away, his concerted efforts to clean the streets. And all because one of his apprentices couldn't understand his work. All because one of them was not strong enough to stand.

Or perhaps it was because Jiruyno had broken him - and the thought passed his mind observed and considered, viewed with the same general distance that Jiruyno viewed everything. There was no regret; he had enjoyed the young man's distress and eventual break. Had enjoyed putting him back together in ways that suited him. It had been...pleasant. His lips curved into an unpleasant smile for a moment, a soft laugh aborted almost as soon as it began. He didn't need Jessan asking him questions about what amused him.

"I did not let them suffer. There is no need to kill messily. Anyone who lets a victim bleed to death or die in pain is doing it because he wishes to hurt, not to kill."