He slowly lowers himself into the wooden chair, the light from the lamp reflecting off the metal of his left arm. It gleams with a polished finish despite its metal composition, a stark contrast to the dark leather of the chair's armrests. Settling in, his left arm rest comfortably on the wooden frame, his fingers tap a steady rhythm against the leather.

"I've been having some issues lately, some that I can't quite describe," he murmurs, his voice low. His eyes fix on the ground, his hands nervously fidgeting in his lap. "It's not just the usual stuff I've struggled with in the past, it feels...different this time."

He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. Despite his efforts to remain composed, his body language radiates a sense of unease, an undercurrent of anxiety simmering just beneath the surface.