Who: Spencer Reid and Gabriel Gray. What: Sylar's first session. Where: Reid's office. When: Wednesday morning. Rating: Possibly PG-13, depending. TBA.
Another Antisocial Personality Disorder. Although a formal and official diagnosis was not possible without meeting this patient, talking to him, interacting with him and getting inside of his head, of Millon's subtypes Spencer Reid was willing to currently place him tentatively as a covetous or reputation-defending antisocial. After reading his file cover to cover so many times Reid's eidetic mind had it photographed and memorized, he could see the narcissistic tendancies of the reputation-defending antisocial, as well as the self-centred view that the world had not given one his due that came with the covetous. Perhaps even some of the sadistic malevolent subtype. Of course, an individual suffering with ASPD could display characteristics of more than one subtype, which was why he would need to meet with Gabriel Gray before drawing any formal conclusions and issuing any medications as they were needed.
After reading through the thirty-one-year-old killer's file, one thing had become very apparent to Reid. Gabriel stood a good four or five inches taller than him, and was far broader. Even though Reid had never really been physically strong, he wouldn't mind taking his chances with a smaller, younger patient when it came to his own safety, for privacy reasons. Regardless, given the man's size and apparent strength coupled with his psychotic tendancies, Reid knew better than to take chances and jeopardize his own security, which was why he would be doing something he actually disliked very much and having an orderly sit in on their meeting. He had requested, though, that the orderly wear a set of iPod headphones and merely watch them talk, without listening. If Reid was going to get Gabriel to open up, he needed him to feel like it was just him and his doctor.
His window would be locked securely, and he had requested three orderlies transport Gabriel from his room to the young profiler's office - two of which would remain outside of the office, and one of which would be allowed to sit in on the session whilst listening to music, quiet and motionless in the corner so as not to disturb the session. As disturbing and sick as it may have sounded, Reid was at least comfortable with this case - the man was a serial killer with delusional tendancies, ASPD, narcissism and dissociative identity disorder. This was his forte, so to speak. This was what he was good at. Profiling these types of people was something he had spent the past six years doing actively, and two or three years before that training how to do. It was his comfort zone.
The office was neat and tidy, though his desk looked worked at - there were files and papers all over it, some neat and some not so much, and his computer was humming softly. The couch and chairs were pulled in such a way that he and Gabriel would be able to sit opposite each other with at least ten feet, and the low coffee table, separating them. There was another chair pushed into the corner for the orderly, depending on whether he wanted to sit or stand.
Clad in a white shirt, burgundy tie and pale grey cardigan, his glasses propped on the bridge of his nose, Reid waited behind his desk for the patient to arrive. He was going over Gideon's file, obsessively as he always did, but anxiously, secretively - like a teenager looking at porn who was constantly paranoid that his parents would catch him. He didn't want people to see him obsessing over it, but he couldn't help it. There had to be some secret in there, something, to making the man better... and he would continue to read his file cover to cover until he found it. Or his brain melted. Whichever came first.