Greed had already seen through it. Main Universe Batman was deliberately getting back at them, bringing in an idle person to annoy them right when they were busiest. But Greed was far too busy to spare a hand, unable even to send Agent away, and could only watch him loaf around for an entire day.
Fortunately, Agent merely drank coffee and ate donuts without causing trouble. That sounded like good news, but in truth, someone else was making trouble—Pride, for example.
Greed's and Pride's consulting rooms were next to each other, separated by only a wall. Superheroes lined up outside both doors. The superheroes who came out of Greed's room either carried prescriptions or medicine, and all looked fairly well. But those who emerged from Pride's room went in beaming and came out looking like their parents had died. Don't ask. If you did, the answer was that they had received a brutally incisive scolding.
As always, psychologists were not responsible for deciding who was right or wrong. They only guided people into expressing their thoughts, analyzed the problems in their minds, and taught them how to resist emotions that harmed their mental health. Greed generally did the same: he gradually drew out a patient's psychological weak points, analyzed their emotional issues, and determined whether those issues would affect their health. If the impact was serious, they needed to resolve it; if it had already caused a pathological reaction, they needed medication.
Under normal circumstances, he explained things in simple, accessible terms. He could also use his professional knowledge to make superheroes recognize the importance of mental health and actively accept treatment, even taking medication regularly.
But Pride was different. He was not a doctor at all—mutually hurting each other with Gothamites did not count as experience. He had almost