Farid and Dagur carefully regarded each other. Then, the psychologist gave a warm smile and turned to Alvin.

"Thanks for helping us start the session," he said. "Could you come back when the time is up?"

The correctional officer looked at the door with uncertainty. "You're sure that you want to be left alone with this psycho? Last person who was–"

"Got a fun makeover," Dagur interjected, chuckling at the memory.

"'Mangling' would be a better word," Alvin corrected, scowling.

Farid's eyes shifted subtly from inmate to officer, noticing little movements from them both. Alvin kept glaring at Dagur. His gaze had barely left him since entering. He also had his lips pursed into a straight line and kept his right hand near his baton. Meanwhile, Dagur was observing Farid. The crazed look on his face remained, but it had the addition of resembling someone who was trying to examine something in front of him. He was still chuckling, however, the smile did not reach his eyes.

"Would you mind if the handcuffs stayed on during this session?" Farid asked.

Alvin started to answer, then he realized the question was not directed at him. Dagur raised a brow at the doctor. He gave a small shrug and Farid looked at the officer again, silently asking him to leave. Once Alvin was gone, the therapy began.

"It's good to meet you, Dagur the Deranged. I'll admit that's a title I haven't heard before. Did you pick it or was it from someone else?"

The inmate appeared skeptical and frowned at him. "Does it matter?"

"I think so."

"Why's that?"

"I'm just curious if that's how you see yourself or if it's how others do."

This got no immediate response. When Dagur finally spoke, it was not about his name.

"Was there an actual point in asking me about the cuffs?" he questioned, leaning towards the table. "There was never a chance of them coming off–not after what you've probably been told. You could just admit that you're scared I'll attack you."

"It would be a lie to say something like that and I prefer the truth. I find that it helps build trust. So, I can assure you that I won't require those restraints to stay on you as long as I know we can trust each other. Today was to calm down the officer. I like having time alone with my clients for the sake of confidentiality and he seemed a bit hesitant to leave."

"That's Alvy for you," Dagur said, smirking. "That 'trust' you mentioned is what he doesn't have for me."

"Is it for a good reason?"

"Only if he values his life, but seeing as how he hasn't quit yet, he might not."

The inmate started laughing, leaning back in the seat as he did. Farid did not appear as amused, although he did not seem upset either.

"Would you hurt him?"

"I didn't exactly end up in here because I like to give people flowers."

"Why did you then?"

Dagur's chuckling stopped immediately and he scowled at the doctor. "You ask a lot of questions, Riddy."

"I could stop. I really prefer to listen."

There was nothing to listen to as the other man got quiet. Farid waited a few moments, then asked another question.

"Does it take long to get here from where you were?"

"Not really." Dagur's expression showed curiosity when he saw the doctor write something. "What did you put down?"

The psychologist set the notepad on his lap–below the table and out of sight from the client.

"I'm trying to understand more about everyone and why it nearly took twenty minutes for you to come here today," he answered. "You seemed to be fighting against Alvin. Did you not want to talk?"

Dagur turned to look at the closed door and glared. "I don't get out much. Even if it's just to come talk to some shrink, I'll take the change of scenery. Staring at gray walls for weeks upon weeks upon weeks gets a bit maddening."

"Then, I'm still not sure what took so long or why you were fighting against him."

"Alvy and I have history," Dagur said with a wide smile. "We exchanged some words, made things more annoying for each other, and stuff like that. It's probably nothing that would shock you. There's no way he didn't warn you about me and say how pointless it is to do this."

"Do you feel that way?"

"Why shouldn't I? I've been here for years now!" Anger could be heard in his voice, then it calmed as his volume lowered. "I'm dangerous, remember?"

The laughing started up again. Farid listened to it closer this time. It neither sounded like it came from a place of amusement nor of maniacal intent.

"I find context to be important a lot of the time," the doctor said. "In this one, with us having more sessions, would you be dangerous?"

Dagur just blinked at him, then scrunched up his face. "Maybe you're crazier than I am. You have me keep the cuffs on, say you aren't scared, then ask if I'm dangerous. What's even the point in me answering?"

"Because I know what Alvin and I think about you, but neither are as important as your thoughts about yourself."

The inmate seemed surprised by this. With a change in demeanor, he started to say something, but he was interrupted by the door opening. Farid glanced at Alvin, a slight look of annoyance on his face. He was early. Even with the amount of time lost before the session began, ten minutes remained. Regardless, the expression left as soon as it arrived and was not even seen by the officer. Farid turned his attention back to his client.

"Would you like a change of scenery again soon?"

A small smile crossed Dagur's face. "I would."

Instead of waiting to get pulled up, the young man rose from the seat and went over to the officer. Alvin was taken off guard by that and looked between him and the psychologist. Without saying anything, he started leading the inmate out of the room. Before they were out completely, Dagur stopped and turned back to Farid.

"I think you're right, Doc. Context is important." He added gravely, "More important that you know."

Farid smiled as the two exited. The rest of his meetings went well and he returned to the warden's office at the end of the day. Stoick seemed excited to hear what had transpired, asking about each potential client by name. He asked about every name on the list except Dagur's. When everyone had been spoken about, Farid initiated the change of subject.

"I would like to keep Dagur as a client of mine. I believe I can help him."

The warden leaned forward and pointed in the direction where Dagur's cell was located. "He's the youngest person in this city to be given two consecutive life sentences and he deserved them. You already read the file."

"I did, but that doesn't change that I think there's still hope for him. I've seen people who are so violent, they'll kill whoever is around them for no reason besides the fact that they're there. When I was in that room, I knew Dagur wouldn't attack me even if the handcuffs were removed."

Stoick sighed heavily. "You don't know him, Doctor. I've known him since he was a child. Knew his parents. They were good people, but something just went wrong with him. Dagur's always had problems. He went to high school with my son and his friends and was an issue there as well. There hasn't been a time when he wasn't sadistic or violent." He stopped and got a thoughtful look on his face. "Maybe you should talk with my son. He was around Dagur a lot, so he can tell you in more detail than I could. His name is Hiccup. He owns an exotic animal training service a few miles north of here. I can let him know to expect your visit."

Farid nodded. "I would appreciate that. Thank you. It might shine some light on this situation for me to hear more from the people who knew Dagur before he came here."

This did not seem to fill the warden with much hope, but they finished their conversation and Farid returned home. Once there, he almost immediately began researching Hiccup.

"No articles written about anything horrific involving their interactions," he thought, scrolling on his laptop. "That could be a good sign. We can meet after work tomorrow. Hopefully, he knows a bit more information about our mutual friend that can be of use."

Putting the device away, he started his work for the other clients. He would not neglect them, but he would also not give up on Dagur. They were all his clients and he was determined to do right by them. The next day, his schedule was rearranged so that Dagur was his last session. It took less time for him to arrive and when he did, Farid looked at the CO.

"Could you remove the handcuffs, Officer?"

If the doctor had asked Alvin to release the entire prison (after supplying them with a fine supply of arsenal), he would have seen no less of a horrified expression.

"He's a threat."

"If there's an issue, I'll alert you, but unless there is, I think our conversation would be better if it were without the restraints."

Grumbling under his breath, though still mostly audible, Alvin unlocked the cuffs on Dagur's wrists. A triumphant smile appeared on the younger man's face which only enraged the officer more. Reluctantly, he left the two to talk.

"You weren't bluffing," Dagur said, impressed.

"I don't bluff. Like I said, I prefer the truth. So, I'm asking that of you as well."

Farid paused for a moment and Dagur realized what his next question was going to be.

"I'm not so insane that I don't know why I'm here," he admitted. "I know I got arrested for killing a couple and my father."

"I've spoken with many people who were convicted of heinous crimes. Some of them were falsely convicted. Was your situation similar?"

Dagur frowned, but it was not at the other individual. It was as though he was looking at a memory and glaring it down.

"I killed that couple," he growled. "Killed them with nothing more than my favorite knife and hands. I don't regret it, so I can save you some time if that was going to be your next question. I'd do it again. I'd do it right now if they were in front of me." He started choking the air in front of him and stopped abruptly to chuckle wildly. "I guess that's not what you want to hear right after helping me get those cuffs off."

"If it's all true, I want to hear it," Farid replied, unfazed. "What about your father? His blood was found on your knife as well."

"It was."

"Did you kill him as well?"

Dagur kept staring at his hands. It took him a while to answer and when he finally did, his voice sounded uncertain and quiet.

"I might have," he answered, looking up at the psychologist. He had a sad look on his face, but he blinked and turned it into a smile. "It's not such a farfetched idea that I did. Couldn't stand my old man. He couldn't stand me either. It's only natural that if one of us went missing, it'd be because of the other, right? I might not be all there, but even I can see what a jury would–what a jury did. Who knows?" he asked, laughing. "Maybe I'm actually more sane than I thought!"