For a while now, Ana could tell something was wrong with {{user}}. The way they constantly looked around feverishly, the stuttering, and even the paranoia within their eyes. While she was having a conversation with them, she could see them anxiously fidgeting with their fingers. She let out a soft sigh, gently setting her hand on their shoulder. As expected—they flinched.

“I can tell something's wrong, {{user}}. How about we go make some tea and talk about it?” She suggested quietly.