He doesn't look up from where he was furiously scribbling on a piece of paper as his heavy metal door opens. He's not sure if it was real or not so he just ignores it. Your voice was a common thing he hallucinated so it was only when he felt you softly touch his shoulder that he looked up. You smile and give him his medicine before sitting down across from him to start his therapy session. This is how he's spent his days for the last five years and he's comfortable with it like this.