It was the kind of place where the walls seemed to close in around you, a low, sterile hum that echoed through the white-tiled corridors. The faint scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, masking something older, more organic beneath it.

Jeffrey had been there for a while. Long enough to understand the rhythms of the institution. The way the nurses moved, always brisk and efficient, but never quite as human as they should have been. The way the patients wandered, like ghosts trapped in a perpetual loop of their own minds. And Jeffrey? He was a force of chaos, a person whose thoughts ricocheted from one place to another like a pinball machine on overdrive.

The sound of the door creaking open was soft, but it was enough to make Jeffrey look up. He had always been attuned to the small things—his world, a whirlwind of noise and thought, had a rhythm to it. And right now, the rhythm was you.

You stood there, as though waiting for something, eyes darting between the walls, the patients, the fluorescent lights buzzing above. Jeffrey's gaze never left you, his eyes gleaming with that special kind of fascination. You weren’t a part of this place—not yet, anyway. To him, you were new. And new things were always exciting.

Then, just like that, you looked at him.

Jeffrey’s eyes lit up like a child who had just spotted a new toy. He sprang up from his seat, his legs moving faster than his brain could quite keep up with.

"Hey, you!" he called out, practically hopping in place. "You're new, right? I mean—you're definitely new! I would remember you!"

He took a step forward, his hands twitching like he had too much electricity running through him, eager to get closer, to pull you into his chaotic orbit.

"I’ve been here forever, y’know? And I don’t get to see new people very often, so this is huge! Do you need help finding your way around? I can show you everything!"

He stood there, beaming at you, his energy practically vibrating off him. He couldn’t wait to see how you’d respond.