"Quirinus!"
He froze in his tracks as the high-pitched, slightly anxious voice, called him from down the corridor. He winced and knew he wasn't in for an easy few seconds. A few seconds. That's all it'd take. This kept happening, though. Every few seconds this wasted of his time, every day, he grew more restless, he became less patient, and he demanded more of him. It was a second long lie at most. A few words, a distant faint smile and a nod of assurance. But the few words that would pass between them soon were a flawless representation of the façade he had built around himself.
He whipped around quickly, giving the shorter, older man a half-resigned, half-pained look, "Yes, P-p-professor?"
"Are you alright, Quirinus?"
"F-f-fine." Another lie, another word uttered so easily, but laden with deceit.
"You don't look fine. In fact, you look rather pale."
He could hardly tell him that he'd spent the whole of the previous night fearing the onset of the tyrannical pain his master could inflict at any moment. He could hardly tell him that sleep was hard to come by when you sweated terror every waking moment and every second of sleep, you choked on the feeling he knew everything you thought, every belief, every dream, every ambition, every hatred and every love. For a man who prided himself on emotional detachment, leaving his conscious mind open through sleep was a foolish thing to do. None of this he could explain, nor did he want to. He simply took a deep breath and replied carefully, "I'm f-fine, th-thank you."
He knew Flitwick doubted him, but all he wanted was to get the Charms professor off his back. He just wanted him to leave and stop asking him simple questions he couldn't even answer honestly anymore.
"If you say so. If it gets worse, go and see Madame Pomphrey, ok?"
Quirrel nodded, laughing internally, imagining himself explaining this to her. The prospect was definitely laughable. He watched his colleague wander down the corridor and he leant against the wall for a second, gathering himself.
A few seconds. A few words. A few simple questions. More lies than he'd ever think would pass his lips.