Manu Albañil || Psychological Evaluation

[Arrows]

From the Desk of Dr. Imogen Lapointe
Evaluation 03: Year of the 7th Hunger Games

Her pen makes several final flourishes on the page marked for Mako Perez before flipping finally to something fresh. A new page meant for a new tribute. Placing both her pad and pen down on the table, she takes it upon herself to step out of the cell for a second to get a freshly chilled bottle of water to place alongside the muffins. She has already gained more information than she could have imagined and she still isn't done. There's a lot to be said about data derived from such a statistically young age group. 

Returning to her seat, she takes one last look at Mako Perez's file before slipping it away into the bag by her chair. As with any visitor of her's, she has to try to find the best way to approach. Often times the initial impression is what everything else is based on. Naturally, she can't account for everything but she can be as prepared as possible for what they may or may not say. Reactions are supposed to be her specialty after all. His file was an intrinsically exciting read though in terms of prospect. An orphan boy from the war brought to a family the Capitol could count on. 

The sound of the holding cell's door squeaks and she stands sparing a soft, yet considerate smile. "Hi, I'm Dr. Lapointe. I just have a couple questions for you, please have a seat and you're welcome to the water or muffins." She waits for Manuel to take a seat before sitting down herself picking up both the pen and the notebook before her. This is the beginning. "Before we begin, I just want to explain why you're meeting me. I'm a psychologist and I really want to get to know each and every one of you. To me, you're so much more than just numbers. You're unique individuals." Her fingers clicks the pen softly as though a prelude to the flowing ink that is to follow. "Since there really is no great place to start considering the circumstances, Manuel this might seem like a weird question but what does trust mean to you? You can use as little or as much detail as you'd like. This is your time, I'm just here to listen."

[LAIN 🍽 1M | Mattio]

m a n u

gone for a moment
tipping the scales for answers
where thoughts don't belong

anu is a prisoner in this place. The holding cell is lonely, like the attic that captured him in Two for all his memories withstanding the test of time. Why are they keeping him here? His reconstructing homeland has more spirit than this place. Where is the honor that the Capitol has sold the title of tribute for? (Manuel, don't ask questions if you think the answer may give you distress. Trust what you have already been told, then embrace it.)

The rare dragging of the cell door opening, metal against stone, brings his attention forward. Manu shifts his position on the bench, placing his feet neatly on the ground rather than sprawled out. A woman steps in, pen and notebook in hand. She announces herself as Dr. Lapointe. She offers Manu a bottle of water or muffins, to which he obliges. The bottle is cold against his hands. It's got to be better than the tap, though. He begins to reach for one of the muffins but stops himself just before he can grab one. Manu remembers what she said. "You're welcome to the water or muffins." Not both. One or the other. The refreshing feeling that the water bottle gives is a choice enough for him. Manu sits back down on the bench. He's so hungry though. (Follow directions to the tee, Manuel. Every word is chosen carefully, adhere to them all.)

Announcing that she's a psychologist should make him uneasy, but Manu finds comfort in what she's saying. He is 'unique,' she says. One could make that case in some way, shape, or form. Understanding what she means and actually believing it are two different objectives for him, though. Manu begins to unscrew the cap off the water bottle as she begins asking the first question.

Manuel, she says, what does trust mean to you?

The bottle comes off and his hand shakes. A splash of the water falls down from the movement onto his hands and lap. Cool to the touch, it brings relief. Good, as the pressure and embarrassment from that question leaves him warm. He sets it beside him on the bench for now.

"You can-" Call me Manu, is what he was about to say. A well-to-do person like Dr. Lapointe will certainly want to keep things formal. "Your question…" He throws his hand loosely across his lower lip, wrapping around the jaw. "Trust is knowing that somebody has your best interests in mind without having to ask them." Is that the answer she's looking for? Is that what Manu believes? Blink. Can he believe something that's been told to him but never proven? Blink. The signal to reality checks back in. "Trust is built." Manu's trust is built but not earned. "Implicitly." He tugs at his turtleneck as the heat builds.

elegant

[Arrows]

From the Desk of Dr. Imogen Lapointe
Evaluation 03: Year of the 7th Hunger Games

As much as her hand moves the pen swiftly along the page, Imogen's eyes don't fall away from the features of the young boy. Hand touching his face, hands pulling at his neck as though tethered by a taught tie, and several other indications captivate her watchful gaze.

Initial impressions indicate an innate sense of emotional pressure. Discomfort seems to express itself most naturally through physical adjustments of body and attire. Most likely conclusion corresponds to a sense of search for correctness in his answers. It is possible to further observe his reactions to stress by making reference to such stimulus. 

Clicking her pen and lifting it from its place on the page, Imogen finally gives a short nod to the boy's answer. "Trust is absolutely something that can be built, I agree." She lets that settle only briefly before moving directly onto her next question, she is curious which direction it will take him. "Are you comfortable? I can imagine the Games can be extremely stressful. Are you feeling any of that, especially coming from the District of the first Victor?"

[LAIN 🍽 1M | Mattio]

m a n u

answers are a war
sometimes not worth the fighting
and sometimes worth gold

Manu senses her studying him. That's the whole point of an evaluation, after all, to watch him go through so much tribulation just to get past the moment. She agrees with what he has to say, of course. He can hear the mockeries made by the other tributes to the Peacekeepers outside. It's silly for them to expose so much of their energy when the game of strategy and stamina isn't too far away. Manu is conscious of it, though, obedient and loyal to the role so as to be equipped to win. The noise is a weak distraction for him. The ability to mute the voices of those that cannot serve him a purpose was learned swiftly as a little boy.

She asks him if he's comfortable. Isn't it obvious? His free hand rubs against the bottle's condensation, soothing him for a moment. The question strikes him as one that shouldn't need to be asked. Yet she goes on, talking about the stress and pressure that coming from Two, which homes the first-ever victor, might bring. Adder Ames, of course, is who Lapointe is referencing. It holds little water in Manu's eyes. While Two had the first victor, they also had the first tribute to die. That Kostas boy. Rumor has it that Kostas's two younger brothers are on a warpath to protect future girls and boys who might end up like him.

Manu looks down at his shoes and then at the psychologist. He's ashamed to answer but shakes his head anyways. "No... I thought I was being good. I follow the rules, do my work, and say the pledge. I don't know why you put me here." (The bowl put you here, Manuel.) "The bowl, I mean." The momentary fear between hearing your mistake and correcting it passes quickly. "I don't think the people here are like me."

He moves on to the subject of stress. "I feel very stressed. I've spent a lot of time thinking. Too much time, really. How am I going to kill these people? Can I kill them?" His mind has permitted these questions on the basis that the Capitol cannot be disparaged by any of their answers. Just because Manu can ask these questions doesn't mean they can't hurt him. "And what's going to happen when… if I do die?"

All very stressful quandaries.

elegant