It was late and Alvin was in the middle of doing his rounds. He was shocked when he saw Gobber moving Ansson from his cell to the therapy room. This was getting out of hand. Angrily, the officer went to the warden's office. Stoick glanced up at him.

"What's going on, Stoick?" he asked, scowling. "Why is that shrink talking to Ansson now?"

"He can speak with any of the inmates. You know that."

"And it's just a coincidence that he's talking with Dagur's former cellmate mere days after he attempts an escape?"

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"Is there also nothing wrong with him talking with Dagur in his cell?" His eyes narrowed. "One of the officers said he saw him going there with Gobber."

"And your point is what?"

"That it's madness. It's complete and utter madness to go to the cell and talk with Dagur after he tried to break out. I thought this had been resolved and it was over."

"You did, but I never said that it was."

"Stoick," Alvin said, trying to stay calm. "It should have never started, but it can at least end now. Why aren't you letting it?"

"Because it's harmless. The sessions didn't cause that incident the other day and more talks with Dagur and the others won't lead to chaos. This isn't some elaborate scheme to break out all the inmates, Alvin. It's just therapy."

"Just suspicious therapy."

"What exactly makes it suspicious?" Stoick asked, leaning forward slightly. "What in all honesty is so wrong with him talking with a former cellmate? I don't see any way it could hurt us. Do you?"

Alvin just glared, then sneered. "You are the boss. Your call."

Too angry to await a response, Alvin left and stormed down the halls, snarling at anyone in his path. He went back to Ansson's cell and glared at it, thinking how it should have contained the prisoner. It only made him more furious, so he continued his rounds, considering several times if it would be noticeable if he left long enough to slash Farid's tires. In the therapy room, the doctor's eyes were wide at what he had just heard.

"Dainty?" he echoed.

"Yeah, Dainty," Ansson answered. "That's what I call him."

Farid looked down at his notes. They suddenly seemed so insignificant and he seemed so ill-prepared. After a quick pause, he recomposed himself.

"What made you start that?"

"Because he is."

"I heard you two used to be cellmates. Is that true?"

"It is. Was dainty then too. Can't even help it."

"Was he really the one to give you those injuries?"

Ansson's smile disappeared. "Why do you have to bring that up?"

"It involves Dagur. You said you wouldn't mind talking about him."

"I didn't say I'd talk about that."

"You don't have to, but do you still consider him dainty?"

The inmate scowled, then nodded. "Always have, always will. Never said he wasn't dangerous or crazy. Just is dainty too."

"Why do you think that?"

"Have you met him?"

"Maybe I just see a different side."

"Clearly. He's weird. He likes stuff like drawing and gets annoyed if people smack while eating."

"A lot of people draw and dislike smacking."

"And they're all dainty–especially him. He's so emotional too."

"When did you first meet him?"

"Before I got thrown in a cell. I knew his pops. Used to be his supplier before Dainty killed him."

"Do you really think he did it?"

"Not sure. He seemed to care about his old man even if they didn't get along. Normally, he'd try to get him to not buy from me. Oswald even told me how he'd get rid of the drugs sometimes. I know everyone thinks he killed him, but I don't see it. If he was gonna kill him, he would've done it when I was around, not after I was gone."

"Were you mostly around Oswald or Dagur?"

"Mostly Dainty. Oswald only wanted the drugs and I just wanted his money for them," Ansson explained. "The transactions were quick and simple. I liked when Dainty got involved, though. That made it more fun."

"How so?"

Ansson chuckled. "Because he'd always lose his temper. Had a short one too, so it wouldn't take much. One time, I ransacked his baby sister's old room and he just lost it. Came at me with knives and everything, but I used them to cut him up and then took the knives for myself. Even you would've gotten a good laugh out of seeing him angry when he was little."

Farid did not join in with the chuckling. "Why did you do that to the room?"

"Because I knew it would provoke him. It was more fun when he'd be upset at first, but sometimes it also was nice to just start something."

"Is this something you normally did with kids?"

"No, Dainty was special. I didn't realize how fun kids could be 'til I met him. I tried beating up the kid of another buyer once, but the little brat just cried and snitched on me. Dainty made it exciting. He'd fight back. He'd lose of course, but he'd try. It freaked me out sometimes. He'd just never stay down. I'd have to knock him unconscious before he'd stop. He just was so weird. It was like there were some messed up wires in his brain. I caught him licking a hunting knife once. That's one of the less strange things he's done. He used to howl outside when the moon was full. There's something not right about him, ya know."

"If you felt that way, why did you want to provoke him?"

"Because there's nothing funnier than someone being upset and not even really understanding what's going on," the redhead explained. "He'd get so flustered. The thing with Dainty is that, contrary to popular belief, he wasn't an idiot. Pains me to say, but he was actually smart."

"I'm a bit surprised to hear you say that."

"Eh, it's the truth. It interested me since it was fun seeing how his strange, little mind would try to make sense of things, but it got to be annoying sometimes."

"Can you give me an example?"

"Sure," Ansson said, using his left hand to scratch his beard. "One day, I was bored and just came to see him. I didn't even have anything to sell. I was curious what he'd be like if he were high on something, so I tried to get him to inject one of the needles into his arm."

"Did he?"

"No, he'd seen his dad and didn't want to end up like that. I told him everyone was doing it and he should too, then tried to be real persuasive if you know what I mean," the inmate said, clenching his one hand into a fist. "That didn't work either. Would've had to leave without any entertainment, but I wasn't about to let that happen."

"So, what did you do?"

"I spread some out on the table and slammed his face into it. Eventually, he was gonna have to breathe. He could hold his breath longer than I expected, though."

Farid again found himself glad that the client had been blinded because the glare he gave him would not have been considered protocol for a therapist. Fortunately, his voice maintained a professional tone.

"How did he respond to that?"

"Didn't at all!" Ansson exclaimed. "That's why it could be so annoying. I wanted him to see rocks dancing or at least hear walls talking to him. His crazy self was completely unfazed by it. I'd never been so disappointed."

The inmate started getting quiet, experiencing the effects of the disappointment again.

"What was it like when you saw Dagur again?"

This lifted the man's spirits. "It was great. I didn't realize how much I'd missed Dainty."

"I heard he got injured a lot his first year."

"And you heard right. As soon as I saw him, I knew we could pick up right where we left off." Ansson chuckled again. "You should've seen his face when he realized I was his cellmate. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. If he could've climbed through the cell bars, he would have."

"Was there any particular reason you'd attack him?"

"Was there ever? Nothing besides it being fun. I'll admit that sometimes he deserved it like when…" Ansson trailed off, catching himself before he said anything incriminating. "Sometimes he had it coming. For the most part, it was just to let him know who was boss."

"Did you ever use weapons?"

"Of course. It's not too hard to sneak in some shanks. The little psycho had gotten to be a better fighter since the last time I saw him. It wasn't easy anymore, so I had to tilt the odds in my favor. First time we fought, he almost broke my jaw."

"He didn't?"

"No, he got stopped in time by Alvin."

"And from that point on, you used shanks?"

"Shanks, food trays, bits of broken up concrete. Anything I could get my hands on that would hurt. I couldn't let that near win get to his head. I ran this jail, not him. People would get the wrong idea. When we were out of the cell, I could get the other inmates to jump him. He was still good, but when it was ten against one and we had weapons and he didn't, he struggled. Still though, things weren't quite like they were before I got locked up."

"What do you mean? Because of the setting?"

"Obviously because of that, but no, that's not what I mean. I mean he was still a lot stronger than he used to be, so the most I could do was tell the others to attack him in the yard and at lunch, then sneak some weapons in the cell to attack him at night."

"And you used to do more?"

Ansson grinned. "I used to have some real fun."

"What type of fun?"

"I've heard you're a smart man, Quack. You wouldn't have called me to talk with you about Dainty unless he told you something about me. He probably stayed vague, though, didn't he? What did he tell you? Probably didn't even say I knew him when he was little."

"He said you sold his father drugs."

"And…" Ansson pressed.

"And the rest is confidential."

The inmate looked annoyed, but it did not last long. "Whatever. I know Dainty. If you pried it out of him, he'd admit that we fought, but he'd never tell you the rest. He'd never tell you about the nights I spent at their house or how Oswald either was too high to notice or just pretended not to."

Farid's right hand clenched into a fist and he set his jaw. Even though Ansson could not see him, he could feel the anger coming off the other man.

"I'm telling ya, Doc. There's just something about someone who doesn't know what's going on that makes things more entertaining. Dainty just couldn't wrap his head around why I had come there when I said I wasn't going to steal anything. Only got more confused when I wouldn't leave his room." A smirk which made the doctor feel ill appeared on his face. "But like I said, he was no idiot, so he wound up understanding soon enough. After enough of that, he understood it really well."

Biting his tongue to keep from saying anything, Farid gripped the notepad tightly.

"That didn't continue when we got here," Ansson said, frowning. "I tried, but I couldn't do it by myself."

"By yourself?" Farid asked, noticing the wording.

"That's right, so I got some help. That made it way easier."

"Who was your help?"

"I don't remember. One of the other inmates probably."

"When did this happen?"

"Three years ago. I just remember it happening versus when or who else was involved." Ansson grinned again. "It was nice, though. It had been too long. I still think about it sometimes."

On cue, Gobber opened the door and Farid could not have been happier to see him. The officer had Ansson stand up and get ready to return to his cell. When they were gone, the doctor let out a sigh. It was rare that he felt himself getting so angry in the middle of a session and it was no feeling he enjoyed. A soft knock on the door came as Gobber returned.

"Can make an armless man try to punch his lights out, can't he? I know I've considered it," he said, gesturing to his prosthetic hand.

Farid nodded. "I expected him to be…trying, but he has no remorse for any of his vile deeds. They seem so senseless too. He just likes hurting and humiliating others."

"Which is exactly why I'm glad he's here now where he can't do any more harm." Gobber turned to the door again. "It's about to be dinner time, so I've got a certain inmate to visit. Have a good night, Doctor."

"You too, Gobber."

The blond gave a warm smile as he left the psychologist. After he got the food tray, he went down to cell 1250. Like usual, Dagur was in the middle of working out. He stopped doing pushups when he saw Gobber.

"Hey, Gobby," he greeted. The redhead made a face. "Did someone spit at you on the way here? You look pissed."

"It was a certain client Farid just had," the officer said, handing over the food.

"Can I know who it was or does that fall under the list of secrets he has with clients?"

"I think the secret part happens when they start talking," Gobber mentioned, looking unsure. "It was Ansson."

Dagur's face paled slightly. "He was talking with the doc? How long?"

"It was about thirty minutes as opposed to the typical hour."

"Thirty minutes," the inmate quietly repeated. "A lot can be said in that time. Who knows what they were talking about. Thirty minutes. That doesn't seem like he wanted to see if he was redeemable or not. I could have told him that he wasn't. Would've saved a lot of time."

Dagur could tell he was getting more agitated and he started laughing to try to calm down, but it just seemed to make things worse.

"Why'd he want to talk with him?" he asked, not looking for an actual answer. "Knowing Ansson, he probably was only willing to talk about me the whole time." He scowled and raised his voice. "He's a liar. You shouldn't believe anything he says."

"You don't have to convince me, Dagur," Gobber told him. He paused and looked conflicted. "Would it be so terrible if he told Farid? Weren't you going to?"

"I-I don't know. I didn't even want you to find out. It wasn't exactly planned."

Silence fell on them as Dagur's eyes stayed on the food, but he had lost his appetite. Talking about this made it seem like the officer had found out for the first time again and it was something he did not miss. Gobber could see the look of embarrassment on his face.

"He is a psychologist, Lad," he said comfortingly. "They're trained for things like this to try to help make things less troubling."

"What's troubling is that I'm stuck here while Heather and everyone else is out there, living their lives. That's what's troubling. Ansson was in the past, but this is the present and it sucks."

Gobber knew he had to get back to check on matters with the other inmates, but he did not want to leave just yet.

"The past doesn't stop being an issue unless you heal from it."

"You don't really heal from things." Dagur put a hand to his face. "You just get scars."

"I see Farid doing a lot for this case. I know you're opening up more now than you used to, but you need to be completely transparent with him for him to really be able to do his job. You want to know why he went to speak with Ansson. He probably did it because he isn't getting enough information from you, so he's trying to piece things together. The doctor is a determined person. I can already tell, so it's going to be a matter of you deciding if you want him to find out stuff about your past or if you want to just tell him."

He had to get back, so the officer said goodbye to the inmate and returned to doing his rounds. Gobber saw Alvin as he walked and an intense feeling of hatred filled him. It was overwhelming. Normally, he could handle it, but after being around Ansson too, Gobber had had enough of smug, vile people for one evening.

"Have a moment?" he asked, gesturing to the lockers.

Alvin was going to ignore him, but a shove from Gobber sent him in the direction of the rooms. This nearly started a fight as the bearded man got ready to punch. At the last second, he reconsidered this. It would be testing Stoick too much to attack another friend of his. He was starting to be on thin ice and knew this whereas Gobber was not. If a fight broke out between them, it was plausible that favor would be on the blond. So, Alvin begrudgingly entered the locker room.

"What do you want? I'm busy."

"I want you to leave Dagur alone," Gobber said, glaring. "You've been after him for as long as he's been here. Don't think you've fooled anyone with that 'escape attempt' where you just happened to show up at the right time to shoot him."

"I never asked you to believe me. Never did have a big enough brain to see what was plainly in front of you."

Gobber did not let this get to him, but it was challenging. "I can see exactly what's been going on and I won't be the only one."

Alvin walked past him to leave. "Whatever you say, Gobber. I'm going to get back to my job. When you decide to stop babysitting the deranged, maybe you'll get back to yours too."

Confidently, the CO strode out and continued his rounds. Gobber watched him leave, filled with enmity. Alvin was too cocky. That was one of his many problems. Cockiness had been the downfall of Ansson and it would be the same for Alvin. Gobber was sure of that. Now, he just had to be patient.