"Let’s start there," Felix said, nodding toward the stack of books on the table. Seraphina followed his gaze.
He’d already learned the shape of her. Push too hard and she’d retreat.
He picked up the top book instead.
"Psychology." He turned it over in his hands.
"You’ve read quite a lot."
Silence.
"Not going to tell me your favorite?"
She shook her head.
"Still conserving words?"
A tiny nod, and Felix smiled. "Fair enough."
He set the book back down. "Then I’ll make this easier. I ask questions. You answer with words, gestures, or nothing at all."
He held up a finger. "But there’s one rule: you can’t lie. You don’t have to answer. If you do, be honest."
A long pause, and then she nodded.
"Excellent." He settled back into his chair. "First question. Do you like reading?"
Her eyes drifted to the books, then back to him. A nod.
"What do you read?"
She pointed at the stack. Psychology.
"That much I figured out." He waited. She hesitated a moment before answering.
"People."
Felix’s expression shifted slightly. "People?"
A nod.
"You read psychology because you’re interested in people?"
Another nod, and Felix considered that for a beat. "That’s actually pretty interesting."
"Why?" Her voice was quiet, barely more than breath, but it wasn’t the fact that she’d spoken that surprised him. It was that she’d asked him something.
"Because most people read psychology to understand themselves," he said. "You seem more interested in understanding everyone else."
Her eyes dropped.
She pointed toward one near the bottom of the stack. Felix picked it up, read the title, and raised an eyebrow. "That’s surprisingly advanced."
"So," he went on, casual, "you like difficult books."
"Yes."
"Do you like difficult people too?"
She looked at him, then shook her head. "No."
Felix laughed. "Good answer."
The session went on like that: slow, deliberate, painfully unhurried.
He asked about books, food, weather, the prison, small things she liked or hated or found interesting.
Her answers stayed short: a word, a nod, a shake of the head.
He also noticed she wasn’t just answering. She was studying him back: his eyes, his posture, his breathing, even the way he shifted the chair.
Eventually he decided to give her something to work with. "You’ve been studying me since I got here."
She didn’t deny it.
"I’ve been studying you too. Wondering why I keep smiling, probably."
Her eyes narrowed, and Felix grinned. "See? You did it again."
"Did what?"
"That." He pointed at her expression. "Don’t worry, I’m not keeping score." She looked away, and his tone dropped, more serious now. "You don’t trust me."
"No."
"You shouldn’t. You’ve known me less than an hour. Trust shouldn’t come that easy."
She stared at him, clearly not the answer she’d expected.
"You also shouldn’t believe everything I tell you," he added.
"Why?"
"Because I’m human. And humans lie more often than they tell the truth."
"No." The answer came immediately, and Felix’s smile sharpened with interest.
"So you don’t think people are inherently dishonest."
"No."
"Then what do you think?"
She went quiet long enough that he thought she wouldn’t answer at all. Then: "People choose."
His smile faded, replaced by something more focused. "That’s a very important distinction." He studied her. "You believe people choose what they become?"
"Yes."
"And that applies to you too?"
She stopped. The air in the room changed, something behind her words had gone taut, something reaching back toward the past he’d promised not to touch. Felix felt it immediately and didn’t push.
"That’s enough for today," he said instead.
She looked genuinely surprised. "We still have time."
"I know."
"Then why stop?"
"Because I said we’re not forcing anything." He stood. "You answered more questions today than you’ve answered anyone in seven years. "He pointed at her, then at himself. "It’s communication. That’s what I actually needed."
He walked toward the door, then paused. "Oh — one more thing." She waited. "You’re terrible at pretending you don’t care."
Her eyes widened, just slightly. Felix grinned. "See you tomorrow."
He left without waiting for a response. The door closed behind him.
Seraphina sat alone, staring at the spot where he had been.
Today, she had spoken.
Not about her past. Not about her crimes.
Just books, people, trust, and choice, small things, ordinary things that should have meant nothing.
And yet, beneath the practiced blankness she had perfected over seven years, she knew they hadn’t been meaningless.
Because Felix hadn’t tried to tear down her walls.
He hadn’t forced his way through them, demanded answers.
He had simply sat beside those walls...
...and waited.
She reached for the psychology book and opened it, eyes fixed on the same page without actually reading. *People choose.*
Her fingers tightened around the spine. Then, unbidden: *He’ll come back tomorrow.*
She found herself looking forward to another day.
Outside, Gideon was waiting. "Well?"
"She spoke."
His eyebrows rose. "Already?"
"Not much."
"What did you discuss?"
"Books."
"Books?"
Gideon stared at him. "You spent two hours with one of the most dangerous prisoners in this facility talking about books?"
"Pretty much."
"That’s your therapy?"
"No," Felix said, smiling. "That’s how therapy starts."
They walked in silence for a few steps before Felix spoke again. "She isn’t ready to talk about her past."
"I expected that."
"That’s not the problem, though. She doesn’t need someone making her remember. She needs someone she can talk to without feeling like she’s handing over control."
Gideon considered that. "And you think you’re that person?"
"No idea." Felix kept walking. "But she hasn’t kicked me out yet."
"That isn’t exactly a professional assessment."
"It’s the best one I’ve got."
Behind them, deep inside Acheron, Seraphina turned another page and waited for tomorrow.