T’charrl was very nervous, unable to quite understand what he was supposed to say while he was in the presence of the King again. It was hard the first time, but the silence made him rather uneasy and worried that he might cause a spectacle. The juice certainly didn’t help, he was just sitting rather awkwardly with the rest of them with his tongue in his juice from the moment he got it, not actually taking a drink from it. This was all for him and he was looking like an idiot in front of a foreign King to whom he met not all that long ago. He just wasn’t used to strangers was all, even if he had once seen them before. With a rather awkward staring at he slowly shifted his eyes to his juice, staring at it for only a moment before sighing to himself. The King was being really nice just like last time, even sharing his thoughts and his inspirations for the future. He was definitely feeling embarrassed, but he couldn’t say anything that didn’t sound stupid.

Getting a little lost in thought over his own embarrassment he gasped and nearly dropped his juice when the sound of the book gave him quite the startle. He wasn’t paying attention at all and thought there was an attack for a moment before he saw it was all fine. He needed to not be so tense, although it was hard not to be when everything in his life depended on was with this training. This was simply the calm before the storm and all it could do was make him worried for his existence. If he messed up he might end up losing control and having to be destroyed like the ones of the past, it’d be a complete disaster. Eventually suckling his juice he kept a steady frown, staring at the book momentarily before to the King upon hearing his solution.

He didn’t know what he was doing wrong if that was the solution, he had been trying meditation but maybe he hadn’t been doing it right; then again, he had just been doing it the way he had read about in normal books and was probably for simple problems like stress. He certainly had a lot of stress, but he also had other problems going on so it probably wasn’t the right type of meditation. Nodding a little with his gaze low he frowned and stared down at his juice, giving a little nod in acknowledgement before looking to his father. “I-I don’t have any complaints. I told my friends I would be away for a month or so…” he spoke, looking away again, “Maybe…I’ll be okay with doing this. I think I can do this…maybe. What do I need to do…?”

--

Viral may had agreed to do this treatment stuff with Aito but it didn’t mean he was at all pleased with having to do so. Even though he didn’t know what the treatment was going to involve it was his reluctance to trust Aito that made him not quite get into the mood, his interest in the session wavering already. This wasn’t going to work, he didn’t have the attention needed to try and get his mind fixed. It had been too long with too much that had happened to him, he probably wasn’t going to be able to be fixed up. It was certainly something for the rebels to even allow this to go on in their own facilities, especially when it was someone they did not like using it. It didn’t matter how comfortable the room was, he didn’t feel at all comfortable being left with Aito with the possibility that he was being monitored and recorded. He didn’t like it, leaving the room feeling much stuffier than it should be.

Aito certainly seemed to be at ease despite the obvious trap-like qualities of the room, not to mention he wasn’t exactly feeling happy being near the man like this. The whole thing felt awkward as hell, but despite his level of paranoia over scheming rebels it was probably the most secure room apart from the window. Maybe there was somebody out there quietly keeping an eye on them, it didn’t sound like it would be too farfetched for sure. Groaning lowly he looked back at Aito from the window, narrowing his gaze before looking away with a grunt. Not really caring much about all the little details he was already running out of patience, still wondering about whether he was being watched. “Tch, what’s PTSD? I don’t see what good me describing it is…” he muttered, already feeling put off, “It’s being broken, is what. When you start to fail as a soldier because you can’t get your head back into it. Or maybe it’s when you’ve just had enough of everything because I certainly have! You’ve given me no purpose despite me being made for one. Maybe that’s what it is, how should I know…”