Autopsy of a Mind

Chapter 58: Sugar

Sebastian made his way out of the class, standing outside as he waited for me. I handed out the documents and list of readings for this batch and dismissed the class when the bell rang. I was about to move out of the way when I heard someone approaching me.

"Evie," Jameson said. I stopped and turned back, hoping he would not bother me further. It was unbecoming of me to talk impolitely to students, and I wanted nothing to do with him. He had been trying to show off and become popular among his peers, compensating for not graduating with his class. I understood, but it also showed how desperately he wished for the approval of the people around him and how little he prided himself for being a good student.

I huffed and turned back to walk out. This time he didn't follow me.

Sebastian was waiting for me outside the room, leaning on the wall of the classroom and looking at his watch. With his superior looks, it was given that students turned to look at him and whisper. It would have been embarrassing for me to walk with him if I had been a less confident person, but I felt no shame as I walked up to him and softly spoke.

"You're attracting a lot of attention from the female population, Mr. Butler." My voice was coated in sugar.

"Are you jealous, Evie?" he asked, surprising me. I felt my temper rise at his words. Jealous? What was there to be jealous about? He was clearly popular with his sauve style and looks but I didn't care for the students who seemed to have wanted to follow him out and gave me stink eyes.

"I'm not as popular as you, though." He commented. I scoffed inwardly, not wanting to appear unprofessional. But it was given, this conversation was nothing but unprofessional, but staying by each other's side had made us view this as normal work behaviour.

"I don't know what you mean by popular," I retorted sourly. He was clearly trying to make a problem out of nothing.

"I'm a leading criminal psychologist in the field and have excellent attention to details and facial expressions. Do you want to contest me by saying that you understand the human psyche more than me?" he proudly said. I rolled my eyes intending to talk back.

"You forget that one can become biased at times. You are not above being human." That seemed to have struck a chord in him. His brows twitched in irritation as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I don't like that you are questioning my integrity. I know well how to analyze without having personal preferences."

"And I am saying that you are human and can sometimes overestimate your integrity." It was a lie. I didn't think the same, but for the sake of the argument, I was up for some fun. It was enjoyable watching him rile up over a simple argument. I had come to appreciate such banters as they created some much-needed space in our schedules. Sebastian was an extremely busy individual: with his research, classes, and cases piling up, he was always on his feet without much time for himself.

"No," was his simple reply. I broke out into giggles as we walked towards the professor's common room.

"Does this mean you are not human?" I teased lightly.

"Say what you will, but Jameson was watching you like you were something to eat. Tell me if he bothers you." His words soothed my irritation towards Jameson.

"What will you do? Feed him to the serial killers?" He levelled me with a glare of his, but I could tell that it was playful.

"I don't like mixing business with pleasure," the smugness in his voice startled me.

"Pleasure? Pray tell what pleasure you are speaking of in this case."

"I am what some people call a non-criminal highly functioning sociopath. I don't mix that pleasure. What did you think?"

"Not a single thing," I told him, not giving him the pleasure of making a joke out of it. "You are far from a sociopath. Don't worry. You aren't going to kill anyone in this lifetime, at least." He chuckled.

"I'm glad you know that. I believe at least one person has that faith in me."

"Why? Are there people who think you are capable of murder?" I asked, curious.

"Sure, my own mother thinks that she will someday see me in the news," he shrugged. I eyed him with trepidation. With his personality, it was quite possible to take him as a potential killer. He was indeed capable of getting into the minds of the criminal. That was a bog that most people feared, yet he leapt into it with ease and came out unscathed.

"And do you think you are capable of it?"

"No. The key to being successful in this field is not to be self-righteous but understand that the violent thoughts you are having or experiencing are not your own but a projection of what you are solving." His words made sense, but I could feel my throat constrict.

"I wish I could say the same," I mumbled under my breath, knowing he wouldn't be able to hear. But hear, he did.

"Evie, you are not a psychopath." I lurched forward, stunned at his sudden proclamation.

"I know I am not," I said in a small voice. I didn't know who I was trying to convince, him or myself.

"I am glad you know that." And the conversation could have ended there, but we were already in the common room, with speculative eyes on us.