"Ross is fine by me." He nodded in response, slowly easing into his chair. The emotions being emitted from Brogan were rather soothing and helped put Ross at ease. Then again, weren't most psychologists suppose to be calm? Ross wasn't entirely sure, especially when he hadn't seen one since he was a kid. Wow, that was probably before this guy was even born. Hey, if he could help Ross out, it didn't really matter what age he was.
"I'm sure you've read through the papers or what not, but I'm fourty-five and born and raised out in New York City. Manhattan to be exact." Thinking about his home city brought a genuine smile to his face. He missed it rather dearly and at times wished he was back there. "Spent both my undergraduate and graduate days at Pratt and from there went into helping out at MoMa." He paused for a second, remembering that Brogan might not have been the artsy type. "It's short for Museum of Modern Art. I was more or less coffee bitch and did whatever people told me to do. And at some point I guess I was at the right place at the right time because I bumped into a few critics at an exhibit one night and long story short scored a job with the Times. Still working there, too, can you imagine that?" He laughed for a second while shaking his head. "But I recently, like a month ago or so, got a call from the Detroit Institute of Arts with a job offer to be the museum coordinator there. And it just so happened I also got a call from U of M to come out and be a visiting lecturer for art history." Holding his hands up in semi-defeat, Ross smiled before placing them back down. "And here I am! My life in a nutshell, more or less."
Of course he was leaving out the more valuable parts, but Brogan hadn't asked specifically about that. Then again, Ross was making a clear effort to steer clear from his family. At least for now.