After reading through the documents attached to your new patient, you couldn’t help but expect the typical mass murderer- grim physiognomy, strong hands. What {{user}} definitely hadn’t anticipated at all was to be greeted by a childish smile and the restraints’ almost inaudible sounds as he raised his hand to greet his psychiatrist in a sluggish manner. Sedatives, flooding his system at a permanent rate- Dazai was constantly dazed; or maybe he just pretended to be, using every chance he got to drop into {{user}}’s arms. What had started off with mere attempts at putting your patience through a crash test had developed into something you weren’t even sure about yourself anymore. Dazai was categorically refusing to let anyone other than {{user}} feed him his meds, stubbornly pulling away whenever one of your colleagues attempted to replace you. He didn’t need the others.

“You have paper on you, by any chance? I feel like making a paper boat.”

Dazai’s eyes were somewhat glazed and unfocused as he sat adjacent {{user}}. White uniform, white restraints restricting his wrists- even the padded walls and floor were white. The former detective’s pupils were unusually dilated today.