therapist phobia? (robin)

Romans. A particularly difficult set of individuals to work with, especially when you were a kind of emotional councilor. That was not often the term he used for himself, but he seemed to deal with emotions far more often than what others seemed to. Which was not that difficult to do. It seemed liked everyone one of them went through some kind of desensitization drill, and most had rather traumatic happenings in their past. Being a demigod was not easy, especially away from New Rome. You had powers which you are unable to control as a child, which eventually through harming others you finally learn how to deal with it. People tried to deal with their personal problems by themselves so much, not even confiding in a friend. Some would even claim to not have friends at all, a pity. Everyone needed someone they could trust, someone who cared about them. Dare he say, everyone needs someone to love them.

His small kettle began to bubble, and churn, until it finally made that sweet symphony. It's high pitched whistle was like an angel's voice to the ears of a man who disliked cold weather. Winter was creeping up on the valley, and his office sat on the bottom floor of a building he shared with several other business owners. Not that the building was very tall, but the ten foot ceilings on multiple level built up quickly and heat raises. He had blankets and the like on the couches in case someone wanted them, even some spare clothes in case someone walked into his office wet. In fact there was a good amount of 'just in case' items in the storage room. Along side the cleaning and other house keeping items. The tea sat in his desk drawer. A desk right by the door, since he never used it if a person was actually in the room.

His ceramic mug steamed from the fresh boiling water he poured into it. Curling his finger around a string that laced down to what held the captive tea leaves, he dipped it into the hot water. Sitting at his desk he dunked the reusable contraption before putting it on a saucer. He would clean it out later. A spoon full of rock sugar mixed easily into his drink as a knock came to the door. No one was scheduled for a while, so a walk-in. That was always a welcome surprise.

Opening the door his eyes traveled up, and up. Robin wasn't a short man, standing about the same height as Remus. However this man made him feel almost like a dwarf, though with those muscles and broad shoulders perhaps a small girl would be more accurate. It was an interesting feeling, though his genuine smile spanned across his closed lips. “Afternoon, I wasn't expecting anyone. Would you like to come inside?” Though he noticed the air was a bit nippy to him, this man stood in jean sand the ever fabulous, royal purple, Camp Jupiter shirt. “I just boiled a bit of water if you'd like something warm to drink, like tea, cocoa, or I may have some instant coffee somewhere.”

Once the young man walked into his office he could feel the reasoning behind jeans and a t-shirt. Simply being close, the heat that came off of him was exemplary. If Robin had that kind of internal body temperature he'd never want for a warm house again, though summers may be a bit miserable. “I wouldn't worry too much about it, the other offices may be glad to be rid of their paperwork. And there's always the insurance on the building.” he said in jest, closing the cold out of the office when he entered. “Though if you wish we can sit on the patio.” He couldn't quite recall coming across someone who was warm enough to heat the air in their wake, and not act drunk because of the heat affecting their brain. But camp was full of all sorts, and he was more than willing to accommodating the comfort of each. That was why he had this office, and even purchased the land extending from the window so more buildings could not be built there. Reason's why he was normally eating ramen.

“Correct, Robin, Carroll, ginger, whichever you feel most comfortable calling me.” he said with a bit of a smile, welcoming as he normally gave. His smiles were never creepy, but more joyful because he really did enjoy every day. Talking to people was exactly what he was made to do. “She's a hard worker, you work in the forge then? Must be quite warm for you.” He was always good at a bit of insight, and normally took it for granted. Who wouldn't be able to figure out if the centurion gave you a box of helmets to fix you must work in the forge? People apparently. Different strengths for different people of course. Robin couldn't stitch a cut to save his life, or another's for that matter, while the ones in the infirmary made it look so easy.

Everything in this building was made sturdy, even the furniture had taken it's fair share of abuse. If you cared to look there were patched cuts in the wood, and the cushions had cloth covers over them to hide the stitches and patches. The soft kick at the door frame didn't even phase the red head. “You're already here, and I honestly have nothing to do but sit in this room all by myself for the next few hours. Letting me listen to you is far more a favor to my sanity the a disservice to me.” He took his mug of tea to sit wherever the tall blond wished. Outside or inside, his coat on the hanger by the door should he need to grab it on his way to the patio.