Mercutia sat on the steps of the dojo. Her countenance was stern apart from the strawberry that she was currently holding hostage. It had all started with the kid glaring up at her.
A few minutes ago the boy, deciding she looked fun to bother, had started launching berries at her. She had not been amused. The obvious solution was of course to confiscate his projectiles.
“Give 'em back! I need them!” The kid seemed occupied enough; he appeared to be determined to retrieve his strawberry no matter what. “Oh?” She inquired, “and what do you suppose you need them for?” He had to ponder this for a moment. “Food.” She snorted and fixed him with an incredulous stare. “Food. Not as ammo to hit me again?”
Mercutia closed her eyes. She was tired and she was being attacked by a child with produce. She needed to relax. Deciding it was as good as any time to practice clearing her mind and Speed boost while she was at it, Merry attempted to brush all thoughts of the kid from her mind as she handed hm back his strawberry. Blissful relaxation was all she had for a moment before she invoked the magic, and felt the powerful rush sweep through her.
“Hey.” Her eyes -oculi, archive prompted- landed on the boy once more, as his interruption caused her to open them. They swept over his appearance, and a torrent of thought swept through her.
'Pants have grass stains several inches in length, uniform strips, covering only the bottom half of his trousers. He was kneeling on grass within the last two hours. His mother would have noticed and made him change his jeans by now if he had returned home yet, seeing as his hair has been combed at an angle he could not manage by himself and it's in a style only recently in fashion. Fresh shirt as well, but the jeans are the only part marred by his play. He was trying to keep this outfit spotless, the shirt was tucked in and the belt is untouched. Special occasion then. Old wallet that barely fits in his pocket. Probably a memento of a family member, military man by the looks of the Fiore flag on the front. It's still in good shape so the man was meticulous. Body language suggests the boy recently ceased crying. Emotional wound is still fresh by the looks of it. He was afraid of whatever happened for a long time before hand, judging by the way he looks justified in his emotions. He was attempting to rid himself of anger and sorrow by throwing fruit. Childish response, but better in his opinion than releasing it on friends and family. Diagnosis- Recently returned from funeral of someone he was close to. Probably his father. The strawberries were probably at the funeral, so it was an informal affair. The man likely had a sense of humor. Being in the military, keeping such good care of his wallet, and his son by the looks of how dearly he misses him, he must have had a sense of duty as well. The son, attempting to emulate him, will likely apologize. The mention of ammo startled him, so he likely does not like the thought. That reinforces my hypothesis.'
All of this ran through her mind within moments. When the barrage of thoughts ceased, she felt as if her mind suddenly had too much space. Shaking it off, and filing this new experience away, she focused her attention on the boy.
“Yes?” She cocked her head at him. “I'm sorry for hitting you, but you look an awful lot like a person I'm mad at right now.” He said this solemnly, and she laughed. He gave her a look that suggested she was crazy and she ruffled his hair. “It's no problem kid.” He gave her another concerned look before shrugging and running off. She chuckled.
'Honestly, Merry? You think you can read a person's life story from their pants now?' She shook her head, ready to enter the dojo again before hearing something that made her snap back around.
“Dean, you know you worried everyone at the funeral by running off like that!” She stood frozen as a woman wearing a long coat ran up to him and fussed over the boy's clothes. “Your father would have been-” The boy jerked away.
“You wouldn't know! We don't know what he'd be like, 'cause he's dead! You let him sign up for the military AGAIN, even after the last time.” He choked on new sobs. His mother pulled him into a hug. “Honey, he died doing what he loves, and dammit he loved this country.” She pulled him away and they walked back to the cemetery.
“What just happened?” Mercutia stared, stunned. “Tests. I need to do tests.” Shaking her head, she walked into the dojo.
by 
Subject: Training for Mind Hack (Done) 
