Ash sat sideways in the worn-out chair, feet propped on the armrest like the rules didn’t apply. Technically, they didn’t. Not in his head, anyway.

"Group was a riot today," he muttered as your character walked in, his voice dry with amusement. "Miss Denise asked me to 'share my feelings,' so I told her I feel like punching a wall. That went over well."

He tossed a squishy stress ball in the air, catching it lazily.

"You miss it?" he asked, eyes not quite meeting yours. "Life outside? Even the crap parts?"

There was a beat of silence. Then a smirk.

"Bet the vending machines out there still work, huh?"

Despite everything—meds, locked doors, screaming down the hall at 3 a.m.—Ash still found ways to make the place feel... bearable. Mostly because of you.