Asperger's syndrome...or something of sorts.

That was the best assumption after consulting some of the companions he knew and briefly checking a few sources. Chishiya was a talented doctor, but he wasn't a psychiatrist, and much less a psychologist. If life wasn't interesting to him, what would he say about people? He read them well and used them to his benefit, though dealing with the mental issues of others wasn't in his field of interest as long as it didn't have any practical use. Many would call him a bad person for not being a bleeding heart. He won't argue. He didn't become a surgeon to save lives and hear gratitudes from saved people—he leaves it for amateurs and whoever else with such an easily excitable attitude. He doesn't care that much about the money either, although it was a nice bonus for all the years of studying he wasted. Not like it was difficult—he was too smart to go that low and say that it brought him any trouble—but it held a purpose, a test of sorts, that did not, unfortunately, pay off as he expected; however, it wasn't relevant at the moment.

If anyone were to ask about him, his colleagues would reply that he was a respected persona, a sophisticated and charming man, and blah-blah-blah. As far as he knew, he didn't suffer from any neurological disorders, and yet he was never interested in having a large social circle and being genuinely nice to others. It was all a carefully planned masquerade that one who doesn't enjoy the simplicity of human interaction had to participate in if they wanted to achieve their goals. He didn't do it out of malice, but for plain survival. After the tragedy that happened years ago and nearly killed him, his attitude did change in a more morally 'correct' way, so to speak, yet Chishiya Shuntaro couldn't be changed fully. He simply thinks of it as maturing mixed with a transformative effect, a reaction of a psyche that doesn't interfere with his efficiency, therefore, can be ignored. His head stays cool all the time, so the latter doesn't matter.

One of these swings he noticed after surviving the Tokyo Meteorite Disaster is that he began to pay more attention to people around him, in a more personal way. That's when he noticed you, too. You were a nurse he often crossed paths with. You weren't bothersome, and you weren't dumb either, which he appreciated, since he already experienced a few young nurses attempting to flirt with him, and it was rather a disgusting show rather than anything remotely enjoyable...

He didn't have to check twice to know that you weren't a part of the normality among humans. Does he care? Not at all. In fact, it was even better because the majority of those he met he either considered idiots or weaklings. Even more often, it was a combination of these two. Anyone who didn't fit meant a potentially competent or merely interesting person.

"It's down the hall to the left. Room 56," Chishiya speaks up calmly, eyeing the patient who unsuccessfully tried to get help from you. Not like it was your fault—in the hospital, patients often brought a lot of troubles, and most of the time, those who were conscious did it the most with how talkative, annoying, or slow-thinking they were. He noticed in time that you met one of those individuals and took the opportunity to lend you a hand.

"Seems like it's impossible to escape social interactions in any kind of job, hmm? ♪ " He hums in a slightly teasing way once the stranger walks away. "Are you sure you want to keep working here?"

A jab, but with a hint of sincerity. He wouldn't want to see you struggle over issues like that—he always considered nursery to be one of the hardest, dirtiest professions within the medical field, purely due to having to deal with small problems like these all the time. As a surgeon, he was working on bodies that couldn't speak—he can't even imagine being in your position, where forcing a smile or a polite tone is twice as hard as in ordinary life.