Norm sat at his favorite table, having somehow managed to snag it again despite the number of people in the busy little cafe. The seat opposite him was the only one left, but no one had come to claim it yet. He'd had one cup of coffee, and was now on his second - it was expensive stuff, but if there was one thing Norm was really particular about, it was his beverages.

He had both hands wrapped around the cup and was leaning back in his chair. He looked completely exhausted, and was. He hadn't slept at all the previous night. He'd spent the night wandering about the city and trying to decide whether he wanted to risk the streets, or his apartment. Norm had deliberated so long that the decision ended up being made for him.
...
Well, on the plus side, he'd found out which stores and other businesses were open 24 hours a day.

The tall gentleman just entering the coffee shop looks distastefully around at the crowd and settles for buying something in a bottle and approaching Norm, bottle in one hand and briefcase in the other.

"May I?"

What? Alexander has manners too. He wouldn't get away with being a psychopath so easily if he didn't.

He doesn't look all that threatening. Okay, he's tall and strongly built and looks like he knows how to use that briefcase for more things than just the obvious, but he's just an academic professor dude.

Also, he's got grey in his hair. (It's spreading from his temples into the rest of his hair. Bother.) And wrinkles. He's old.

It takes Norm a moment to react. If he'd waited a moment longer, it would have looked like he was ignoring the professor. When he finally does look up, he gives a weak smile and nods wordlessly.
The he turns his attention back to his coffee.

Alexander sits down and opens his briefcase, lifting out an enormous stack of papers and a handful of pens. (They tend to run out of ink, you see.)

He glances at the lad with whom he is sharing a table, sighs inaudibly and offers his hand.

"Alexander Barclay."

It's rude not to introduce oneself, you know.

The young man takes the offered hand and gives his name, "Norman Peters," before drawing hastily back. His freed hand goes to rest on the table as he takes another sip of his coffee.

Wow, that's a lot of papers. Don't writers like to work in cafes? Maybe he's a writer.

Alexander blinks.

"Writer and English professor, actually."

Half a smile.

"Oh. Well, that would make sense, then."

Norm stops, blinks up at Alexander, then back down at his coffee.
It's waaaay too early in the day to start worryng about people reading my mind. Way too early.

He's projecting so much that Alexander is tempted to put up a shield specifically against him, just to make him hush.

You really ought to learn to control that.

This is a test. Can Norman hear as well as project? And what will his reaction be? (Is he worth teaching, as much as Alexander could teach a telepath, in other words?)

"Control what?" Norm asks aloud, looking a tad fearful.

Are you reading my mind? Are you? Why is it everyone knows what I'm thinking?!

Your telepathy. You are aware that you are projecting everything that crosses your mind for anyone to hear, not just me, yes?

Alexander's smile has widened to a rather amused grin.

Silly unnish little boy.

"Uh..." His jaw drops slightly.

Not until now...? he offers, wincing slightly as if he's just been caught doing something wrong. He pulls back from the table, both hands (now trembling slightly) encircling the coffee cup once again.

I see.

That could be a problem. He looks thoughtful.

How long has this been an issue?

"It always has."

As far back as I can remember,... at least since I was eight, maybe nine. I don't remember if it happened before then but it might have...

Norm likes to talk. It's easier than thoughts, which want to run all the over the place. It's easier to control what he says than what he thinks.

"Is there a way to make it go away?" he asks hopefully.

"None that I know of."

He's going to have a headache later, you know.

"I can teach you to shield it, however." Shields are pretty basic. And that's about all he can teach Norman, because despite numerous attempts, telepathy is incredibly difficult for him.

Thus the later headache.

"And... and what'll that do?" Norm is leaning forwards slightly, looking as if he would be taking notes if he had a pencil and paper to hand. He has the sudden mental image of a glowing web encasing his brain, which is presumably the source of the problem.

"It will keep your thoughts in and others' out."

If visualizing a glowing web helps, then Norm is welcome to continue to do so.

"Oh. Oh, that's good, then." He gives a tired little smile.

"So,... how is it done? Is it difficult?"

"For some, yes."

And Alexander explains. (He also weaves a shield around the two of them that makes them impossible to hear and understand by anyone who might be confused and disturbed and unnish.)

"Try."

"Um,... well,...okay."
He puts down his coffee cup - which he's been clinging to, by the way. He almost knocks it over, but it's empty now anyway. Can you tell he's nervous?
What if it goes wrong? he wonders, and then he does just what Alexander's explained to him.

Norm gives him a quizzical look, accompanied by the thought, Is it working?

Which Alexander doesn't hear.

"Can you hear me?"

He's mentally listing the steps to shield again, if you're curious.

Norm thinks for a moment, and listens,...and doesn't hear a thing.

"Nope," he says cheerfully. "Nothing."
This is only his first time,... it shouldn't come as a surprise that some of his jubilance seeps out, but without any words. He's going to need a bit of practice to keep it all together.

"Contain it, Peters."

And that is vintage Dr. Barclay.

He's been in that habit for more years than he really wants to admit to.

"I'm trying," he says, grinning. He does his best to wipe the grin off and get back to making this work.
...
And now he's got it. His thoughts are staying in his head where they belong, and others' thoughts (namely Alexander's) are staying out. Wonderful.
"...Is that better?"

"Yes."

Alexander smiles and deliberately thinks something profane in Latin.

If Norm hears it, he doesn't plan to explain.

"Keep the shield up at all times, unless you need to use it."

Better for your sanity.

"I - I will. Thanks."

You'd think Alexander had just done something much nicer than just teach the boy how to create a simple shield, by the way Norm's grinning. It's an almost clownish look on him. But then, he hasn't had many people going out of their way to be nice to him lately, so it's no wonder he appreciates it as much as he does.

Alexander shrugs.

"It keeps you from interrupting my concentration."

And he goes back to grading papers.

I'm curious; if Norm wanted to, could he probe past shields?

Not unless he suddenly becomes capable of reading other's minds. Norm is only able to project and receive - the closest the boy would get to mind-probing would through his extreme sensitivity to projected thoughts.

"Well, if I'm interrupting -- I -- I should probably be going anyway, I think I've had more than enough coffee for one day," Norm said, standing and taking his empty coffee cup with him to throw it away. "Thanks again."

"You're welcome."

Totally ignoring the boy now; the response is pure reflex.