Just as Jack bent down to continue the sex, Zoe gently pushed him away and asked doubtfully, "Are you really sure you're alright? Today is the first time you've shot and killed a suspect, yet you're worried about Nolan."
[My heart and actions are as clear as a mirror; all my deeds are for justice].
Zoe didn't understand Japanese and, enduring the tingling sensation in her body, asked, "What are you talking about?"
Jack sighed, propped his head up with one hand, and looked at Zoe: "Don't worry, apart from the scene after the shooting that made me very uncomfortable, my belief in being a police officer hasn't wavered at all. If the same situation happens again, I'll only be more decisive when I pull the trigger."
"God merely used my finger to carry out a just judgment; it was that bastard Selby who drove himself to his death."
Zoe rubbed her forehead. "When you talk to your psychiatrist about this tomorrow, please don't say that. I'm worried he'll write something like 'allegedly abusing his power' in your file. Every year, many officers who believe in their own sense of justice and act recklessly are fired."
Jack nodded, but inwardly he was unconvinced. He'd watched too many American TV shows; even shows like *Dexter* had a huge audience. He'd really like to visit the Miami Police Department sometime to see if they had a forensic pathologist named Dexter Morgan. His real unease stemmed from the bullet that had grazed his ear earlier that day. In that adrenaline rush, he felt no fear or panic; instead, an uncontrollable excitement spread through his body.
He could clearly recall the scene: calmly returning fire when he grabbed the M16 in the car, getting out to chase, sneaking behind a tree, and steadily pulling the trigger after receiving Angela's permission.
The moment the criminal's head exploded in a cloud of blood, every cell in his body seemed to cheer. The exhilarating release of his emotions lasted until he broke his promise and came to Zoe's house.
Only during their passionate intercouse did this restlessness slowly subside. Perhaps Zoe thought Jack was simply seeking comfort from her because it was his first time shooting someone. Only Jack himself knew that if he hadn't come to Zoe, he might have impulsively gone out at night and wreaked havoc on gangsters and probably be killed.
The original owner of this body probably had some serious issues. What kind of personality disorder is this? Shouldn't a normal person, under the stimulation of adrenaline, experience a narrowed field of vision, rapid breathing, trembling legs, and a hand shaking like a Parkinson's patient when firing a gun?
Does this mean he'll have to find a girl to vent his anger on every time he experiences danger? What if he's surrounded by men? I wonder if psychologists treat this kind of problem.
....
The psychiatrist, Maureen Cahill, had long, jet-black hair and dark eyes. Her thin lips, contrary to popular Western beauty standards, combined with her slender cheekbones, gave her a unique intellectual charm.
Jack couldn't recall which American TV series she appeared in, but he remembered the actress vividly: Jordana Brewster, who played Mia, the sister of the character in the *Fast & Furious* series.
He remembered that actress becoming extremely thin after having two children, almost unrecognizable. But the Maureen Cahill before him looked barely 30, her face still full of collagen, breathtakingly beautiful.
Seemingly sensing his gaze, Dr. Cahill, who was reviewing files, looked up at him suspiciously. Jack guiltily looked away, surveying the room's layout.
The room was small and simply furnished. A desk stood against a large floor-to-ceiling window, facing Jack, who was sitting on a sofa. In front of the sofa was a large coffee table. On the left wall hung two abstract paintings of unknown artists, and on the other side was a glass cabinet containing several sets of glass and ceramic cups.
A vase on the desk held several bouquets of different varieties of roses, suggesting that this beautiful psychologist had more than one suitor.
Yesterday, after killing Selby, the police union demanded mandatory psychological intervention for rookie officers. So this morning, he went to the EAP counseling center. Although he felt he was fine, he didn't want to stand out. Unexpectedly, he saw a familiar face.
"Can I call you Jack? Of course, you can also call me Maureen. I prefer a more casual atmosphere." After reviewing Jack's thin file, Dr. Cahill adjusted her gold-rimmed glasses, a gesture both intellectual and elegant.
'It's starting, it's starting' Alarm bells were ringing in Jack's mind. Psychology in his previous life wasn't as magical as depicted in movies, but who knew in this world? After all, even in his previous life, the LAPD had never heard of a rookie officer shooting a suspect in the head on their second day on the job.
"Hello, Maureen, please call me Jack. Please forgive my rudeness; this is the first time I've met such a beautiful psychologist."
Maureen chuckled, covering her mouth, and asked, "So, have you met many psychologists?"
"Uh." Jack scratched his head awkwardly, like a shy young man. "No, you're the first psychologist I've met. I mean, I didn't expect such a beautiful lady like you to…"
Feeling that the more he explained, the worse it got, Jack simply shut up.
Fortunately, Maureen didn't seem to mind. Instead, she took out a tea set and asked, "Do you drink tea? I like green tea from Japan."
Jack's eyes lit up. He took the tea canister Maureen offered, opened it, and saw that it was sencha from Japan. Certain memories stirred within him.
"Can I try it? This set is for roasted hojicha, not really suitable for this kind of green tea."
Maureen was somewhat surprised, gesturing for Jack to make himself at home. She pulled up a chair and sat down at the tea table, watching him operate the tea set with interest.
Jack didn't stand on ceremony. He opened the cabinet and took out two glasses and a cloisonné teapot. First, he poured hot water into the teapot and let it cool slightly — Japanese green tea prefers cooler water than oolong. Then he scalded the glasses, added the sencha leaves, and poured the water over them gently, allowing the leaves to unfurl slowly.
He poured a small amount first, let the leaves steep briefly, then added more water in a second pour — a technique reminiscent of the Japanese senchadō style. Finally, he stopped when the glasses were about 70% full.
Maureen picked up the glass; the rising steam carrying the fresh, grassy aroma of sencha instantly filled her nostrils, invigorating her. She couldn't help but let out a soft exclamation of praise, her eyes filled with surprise as she looked at Jack.
Looking at the needle-shaped tea leaves that had all sunk to the bottom of the glass, Jack took a sip and exclaimed, "Good tea." Some of Japan's high-end green teas — like gyokuro or first-flush shincha — could be found in Little Tokyo, but their prices were far higher than their weight in gold, making them inaccessible to him due to his poverty.
[A/n: I want to remove this whole tea narrative, but this is their first meeting, and i don;t know if it effects the continuation....so every thing is freakinh J*panese, no ching chong.]