The door closed behind him with a soft, almost insignificant sound. Even so, his eyes—or his one visible eye—scanned the room in less than a second: exits, objects, distances, potential threats. Habits. No choice.

Silent.

"You can sit wherever you like," the therapist said, with a calmness that seemed unrehearsed.

He didn't respond immediately. He walked slowly, measuring each step, as if the floor might betray him. He chose the chair farthest from the door… but with enough of an angle to see her and the exit at the same time.

He slumped down, relaxed only outwardly.

You don't seem surprised," she commented.

A slight, crooked smile appeared on her face.

"People like you often pretend not to notice the scar first."

Silence.

She didn't look away.

"I'm not pretending."

That made him raise an eyebrow slightly.