He was sitting rather quietly.

There was no other company around him, so he was comfortable on his own, with his blindfolds folded on his head and his shirt off. The steam from the hot atmosphere stung on his warm flesh with beads of sweats. He looked alright.

His head was resting against the wall, his gaze on the celling. His breathing felt invisible. As if he wasn't in there at all. And yet, it didn't seem like a depressive steam session.