Dom gave a tiny smile, and hissed a little as his bottom lip cracked, and a small drop of blood went into his mouth. He figured he must be dehydrated, or at least, he hasn't drunk any water in a while, because his lips felt so dry.
'Domenico...' He said, softly. 'Lady, it's Dom.' Chuckling a little at the memory, he said, 'Only my nonn- my grandmother calls me Domenico. Die hard Italian, she is. Or was. I haven't heard from them in while...my whole family...'
Dom realised that he was about to say more, about to explain to this stranger, this staff lady paid to run tests on him, the woman he had never even laid eyes on (they were still shut) about the pain he had felt that his family had abandoned him. They visited him in prison, but as soon as he was transferred to the asylum- no more.
But no, that wasn't correct. He hadn't felt any pain, that was the point. He hadn't cared. Dom knew they hadn't visited him, but back then he hadn't given a shit, to be honest. Why did he now? That scared him a little bit. Reflecting back on his past, even though he was perfectly capable of feeling emotions, like anger- especially anger, he thought- they were all egocentric emotions: anger that he had been treated unfairly, happiness that he had been given a day outside the prison, worry that he wouldn't get his sentence lengthened because of good behaviour, that kind of thing. It had been a long time since that he had felt anything for anything else.
I wonder what they're doing right now. I wonder if they still talk about me...nah, they probably have forgotten. Course they have.
Of course, none of this was voiced out loud. Dom may be getting an unexplained return of his empathy, but he wasn't an idiot. He didn't know this lady, and he certainly didn't want her to know every in and out of his personality before he had even taken a good look at her.