[ZACHARIAH JORDY O'DELL]

"You can't keep running away from your issues, Zachariah, they will catch up with you eventually-" Zach cut her off with a gagging sound at the use of his full Christian name, and punctuated the disapproval with an eyeroll. He was giving all the sass of a petulant teenager today, and he really didn't care. "Zach-" This time he cut her off with something stronger than an eye roll. "Shouldn't it be 'Mr. O'Dell, given the lack of friendship and all that." He interrupted in a bored manner, shifting in the chair and throwing the 'stress' ball in his hands higher and higher. He saw the therapist flinch from the corner of his eye each time the ball went that little bit further. He caught it every time. "Mr. O'Dell, your father has instructed that these sessions are mandatory and therefore-" All she succeeded in doing with annoying Zach, and he sighed loudly to cut her off.. again. He didn't give a stuff what he dad had instructed, it certainly didn't mean she had the right to go around calling him Zachariah. He fucking hated it.

"My attendance might be mandatory, but that's as far as it goes." He shrugged in a lazy manner, drawling his words to make a point that he could sit here, slouched in this armchair all day, and it didn't mean it would make a damn bit of difference. "Mr. O'Dell-" And there she went again. Dear God, this one was painfully slow. "Look, Eileen, here's the deal-" "-it's Maureen," A lot of interruption going on here today, great progress he was sure, but he'd clearly offended her by the sound of her indignation. He waved off the correction with a casual raise of his hand. "Whatever." Like he cared. His eyes flickered to the clock, and his lips twitched into a vague smile to see the hour had finally ticked away. "This isn't my first rodeo." And it wasn't - at least ten therapists has passed him by in his young years, and this would only made sad and unhappy number eleven. It felt almost like a duty to him now, to upset and frustrate every therapist in South East England. At least until one of them just took his deal and let it play out the way it should. "I don't need to be here. I certainly don't want to be here, but father insists on trying, so let's just make it easy on both of us, and call it quits now." For a moment, he thought it would be over, but she leant forward and tried again. "Your father has paid for these to discuss the events of two years ago, when you and your friends-"

Zach abruptly stood up, reached to grab his bag and throw it over his shoulder. "Lunch is calling. Think about my offer. You're just wasting your time, I don't need shit from you." It sounded harsh but his tone was calm. He left the room with the therapist still jabbering crap behind him. Somehow, he needed to get his dad off his back about 'talking to someone' but the more Zach pushed, the harder his dad pushed back. They'd been playing games for years, but it had been Zach doing all the shoving, and his dad just leaving him to it, and waving money around like wishes. Now? Not so easy. His stomach rumbled, drawing his attention away from the problem of the therapist, and he ducked into the canteen. For a public school, the uni's lunch menu wasn't that bad. He usually went into town to eat, but the session had eaten into his lunch time and he didn't have enough left to walk to Starbucks today. A lot of the time, he did it to avoid the hierarchy. Though his family were swathed in money they could buy the town three times over, he hated politics and bullying, and wasn't interested in being top dog, or even part of the inner circle. He might fuck about with his life, and be used to being popular, but he'd never cared about the social circle.

As he grabbed a tray and a plate of pizza, he slipped his hand into the chocolate bars and swiped one, stowing it swiftly into a pocket without much trouble. He quickly added to it a can of coke, and then grabbed a plate of chips to accompany the greasy pizza. It was almost habit to take stuff. There was something about having the money to pay for it but not bothering to that gave him a ridiculous thrill. Spying a quiet table with only one person on it, he beelined. They were probably saving it for a group of friends, but what would one extra butt really do to their little friendship bubble? On his way past, his hands automatically pilfered a few extra treats for his lunch, smirking as he even heard one of the guys confused as to where his packet of crisps had gone. Sliding his tray down, he slipped into the seat opposite the brunette and gave her a nod, vaguely recognising her but unable to find a care to put a name to the face.

BAMBI APOLLONIA PELNER