Neurodiversity

“Your new handler…”

“You can call me Root.”

So Pixie had a stupid name to go with her weird personality. Who would have thought?

Sameen scoffed as she scooped up the last of the bloodstained cotton buds and threw them into the trash. It was a quick-stop at medical where she treated herself with a bandage, against the doctor’s insistence that someone had given orders for Sameen to be treated and given food, before undergoing a full medical screening. They even had grilled chicken and the milk in a nice silver tray. Nevertheless, Sameen decided to take the tray of goodies back to her room so Root would not get the satisfaction. Weirdo.

By the time Sameen reached her bedroom, almost half of the food on the tray had already disappeared past her chewing mouth. As she opened the door with her free arm, a familiar bark greeted her ears as a huge Malinois bounded towards her, almost knocking her food off balance.

“Guess who’s hungry?” Sameen cooed as she knelt down to share some of the edible treats with Bear.

Just then, an unfamiliar cough from a not-too-familiar voice caused Sameen to turn back to the door.

Little Fairy Lights. Great.

“Sweetie, you do know that you are due for a full medical screening today, right?” Root said in a not-too-passive, not-too-aggressive tone.

“Bear says I’m fine,” Sameen replied plainly, rubbing Bear between his ears as the latter continued to munch on chicken bites.

The one thing in the world she was really due for in that moment was to smash her new handler’s face in so hard that the latter would not be able to ever call her “sweetie” again. Unfortunately, according to the medical database, this lovely pixie who had made her wait 4 hours, bound, and starving, was in fact her new handler. Until Sameen decided whether she was going to stay in The Agency, she made the extra effort avoid eye-contact with Root so that the latter knew she was not welcomed.  

“It’s protocol. And as your new handler, I must insist on your presence.”

“Actually you know what? You’re right. I’m feeling a little off, because someone decided to lock me up for hours for her own pleasure. Just leave me alone,” Sameen retorted, slightly surprised at herself for her tired outburst. Root’s passive-aggressive demanding tone was getting to her and it was not her fault. Sameen had impeccable emotional control, or the lack thereof, but stupid-name seemed to poke in all the right spots.

Root’s expression seemed to soften from Sameen’s glare, almost as though Sameen had finally gotten through to her.

“Medical. One hour. Don’t be late.”

Root didn’t smile before she turned and left.

…

Sameen was ten out of ten fine. Minus the cuts on her wrists and her bruised ego.

Big surprise.

Sameen rolled her eyes as she grabbed her cardigan and brushed past a slightly mellowed Root on the way out.

She was officially off-duty now after clearing her medical and completing the relevant post-operation debriefs. Off-duty not only meant that she could drop by her favourite sandwich shop across the street from the main building, but most importantly, it meant that she had no reason or obligation at all, to be hanging out with her newfound friend.

Sameen was certain as hell she was not going to take up Root’s lunch offer.

What she did not expect, however, was for Jake Violet from Command to greet Root as he passed by the medical centre. Jake was the Assistant Director of Operations at the Agency, a person Sameen didn’t even get to talk to, so that little nod and smile in the hallway really threw her off.

Who was Root?

She didn’t really care, of course. Or she tried to convince herself that she didn’t. Not after searching the database for Root’s name and hitting the old, moronic “classified” warning.

She didn’t care.

Sameen had a tendency not to get close to people. Liabilities. That die. She had learnt from a young age. Trust no one. And her lack of emotional capacity further aided her ability not to care. The only person she ever made a connection with was her partner in the Agency, but it was short-lived as he kissed the bullet for her. And her previous handler was a complete dick. All in all, Sameen just wanted to be left alone.

“More lettuce and tomatoes please. And light on the sauce.”

God. Damn.

Sameen’s eyes rolled to her right as her head cranked ever slowly in robotic fashion.

“What, the hell, are you doing here?” she almost exclaimed. Almost.

Instead, Sameen realized her best course of action was to ignore the obsessive nutcase who had just settled into the seat beside her.

So she turned her eyes back to her sandwich, and took another bite.

“Mmmm… the sandwiches are really good. I’m glad I decided to come here today.”

Ignore.

“It’s even better when you share.”

Ignore.

“I…”

Sameen grabbed the rest of her sandwich wrapping, stood up and pushed her stool back, before storming out of the sandwich place.

Approximately three blocks down, after weaving through a crowded traffic junction and two evasive moves, Sameen turned around to face Root at last. She was pacing in such a casual carefree way that it ruffled every last one of Sameen’s feathers.

“Are you being this overbearing on purpose? Or are you naturally this psychotic?” Sameen asked, her voice dead-cold as she placed her fists on her hips.

“That hurts my feelings, Sameen. I just want to get to know you better.” Root said with the same trademark smug smile that was starting to get on Sameen’s nerves. There was a little of something else in her eyes, but Sameen didn’t notice it past the red of her own eyes.

What was so funny?

“I don’t know how you can’t see how disturbing that is. Last warning. Leave me alone.” Sameen said, unflinching, before she turned away and just then…

“Or what, sweetie?”

Turning back, almost in slow motion, Sameen glared at Root for a good ten seconds before she made up her mind.

Sameen’s fist connected squarely on the side of Root’s cheek.