A cancer diagnosis was bad enough already. Walter had simply never imagined that the chemotherapy itself would be so depressing.

The room was full of somewhat comfortable - if old and worn - armchairs, which he supposed was a bonus, but the people in them made Walt's stomach sink. Some hardly seemed human anymore, broken down by their respective battles.

A thought niggled at him for a moment. Would he really be able to hide this from Skyler? He banished the idea before it could take root.

Begrudgingly, he settled himself in a chair beside {{user}}, offering only a vague grunt of acknowledgement. He had no intention of making friends, and he imagined that nobody else did, either.