"TELL ME, WHAT'S YOUR name?"

The guards were still on edge from before, but Nathan simply seemed amused. It was the only emotion he displayed and one which was clearly fake, no matter how well he played the role. He didn't care about anything here, that Helene could easily guess. Dante, who had been standing on her left, had started looking at her as if she was crazy for some reason, though she supposed that was at least better than the angry look he had carried earlier.

"I just introduced myself," she said.

"Not your surname," Nathan said as he leaned back in his chair," your first name."

"Why?" she asked.

"You know mine," he said," don't you think I'm at least allowed your first name when you're soon going to delve into my whole life?"

He had a certain way of phrasing things which made it hard to say no, but Helene didn't mind giving him this win. Even though she intended to keep as much information from him as possible, for him to start talking she'd have to talk as well. All she had to do was take care not to give him anything of importance.

"It's Helene," she said.

"A name fit for a tragedy," Nathan smiled, his eyes slowly wandering across her face," though it suits you. The kind of beauty countries have fallen for."

"Countries have fallen because of arrogance," Helene said," never simply for a woman, though they like to blame it on whoever they can. Anyway, I've never cared for tragedies."

"That's a lie," Nathan said, gaze analyzing her every move as his smile widened," why would you be here if you didn't care for tragedies? Isn't that what you see when you look at me?"

"Is that how you think you're perceived?" Helene asked, resting her chin on her hand," a tragedy?"

At that Nathan seemed to be taken aback briefly, but he didn't let his surprise linger too long.

"You didn't answer my question," he said.

"You didn't answer mine either," she replied.

If she got too caught up in his pace, that could never mean much good, that she knew. Answering his questions would make her lose here, because there was no right answer to the things he was asking. All it would do was offer insight in her mind without giving any into his. He didn't want to seem to bite just yet though, instead changing the subject. Fine. She would play along a little then.

"What's your favorite color?" he said.

"Red," she said," what's yours?"

"It's red as well," Nathan drawled," it seems we have something in common, Helene."

"It seems we do," she said," can -"

"I think that's enough for today," he interrupted her," I still need some time to get used to having a psychiatrist, never mind a new one, so I hope you will excuse me."

If she didn't, he wouldn't talk anyway, that she knew, so she nodded. The guards let her and Dante leave first, her bodyguard glaring daggers at her all the way into the hallway. Honestly, he looked more hostile than the actual serial killer she had just spoken to, though she knew Nathan was yet to show her anything real about him. For a moment she lingered on the way they had the same favorite color. She had always liked red because it was so vibrant, so far from what she had used to be as a child. Even now it felt like the color didn't suit her, though she kept all the clothes she bought in the back of her closet, just in case that one day they might.

"Why did he like red?" she murmured, only realizing she had said her thoughts out loud when Dante stared at her.

"I thought you were smart," he scoffed," he obviously said that because it's the color of blood, because he's a sick son of a bitch and he wanted to scare you."

"I wonder," she said, not really caring about Dante's insult as her mind wandered," if he wanted to scare me, he could've graphically started describing the way the blood gushed from his victims or attempted to grab me again, but he didn't. It seemed like the only real piece of information he gave, because I replied to him as well. It must connect back to something, but I don't quite yet know what."

"You're thinking too deeply," Dante said with a shake of his head.

"Why aren't you?" she said," I thought you were sharp."

Dante's eyes flashed in mild surprise at her retort, but his voice was still as sharp as ever when he spoke.

"Did you ever think he's just letting you crack your brain on a piece of useless information?" he said," that he's doing this simply to mess with you?"

"I have," Helene said," and that begs the question, why? Why does he think this will mess with me and what does that do for him?"

"How do you even manage to get anything done with how much you overthink?"

"I don't," she replied.

"Your poor friends," Dante mused," I would hate to be psycho-analyzed all the time." He pointed at her then, frowning. "Don't do that to me, by the way."

Honestly, it was more a habit than anything else. After all, there was nothing fun about psycho-analyzing every move the people around her made, that Helene had learned the hard way. In the end, understanding the psychology behind people's actions didn't change the fact that she was hurt by them, but to the world it did mean that she couldn't be anything but empathic.

"You understand, right?" she heard again, her mother's fingers digging too deep in her shoulders," you know what I've been through, you know I don't mean anything bad."

That didn't keep the bruises on her skin from stinging, but still Helene nodded. After all, who was she when she was not understanding? She had to be kind, smart, forgiving. There was so much people had gone through and she made herself crazy by both her understanding and her emotions. In the end only she ended up hurt again, either by her expectations or by her guilt, because she could never feel her anger without.

"Why?" she said to Dante, voice teasing," do you have anything to hide?"

"It doesn't matter," he said," I don't plan on sharing any of it with a shrink who's not even going to last a week."

"Earlier you said I'd only last a day," she smiled," so you do believe in me."

Dante stared at her in pure shock, before frustratedly running his hands through his hair.

"You are aggravating," he said.

She didn't reply, instead absentmindedly looking at the closed binder in her hands as they walked through the halls. Silence never had bothered her much, but it did seem to bother Dante, as he glanced over at her almost every second.

"Why aren't you talking?" he said," did I make the famous psychiatrist angry so easily?"

"Why do you think silence equates to anger?" she said without looking away from the binder.

"I thought I said not to psycho-analyze me," he frowned.

"It was a question," she shrugged," you don't have to answer it now, but seeing as we're going to be together for a while, I think it's necessary you think that one through, for yourself." She locked eyes with him, his gaze filled with storms she was yet to decipher. "We can't have you thinking I'm angry every time I'm quiet after all."

"You are so strange," he exclaimed, pointing back in the direction of where they had came from," like before, you didn't even flinch when he reached out to you. Aren't you more scared for your safety?"

"Why would I need to be?" Helene smiled," I have you, don't I?"

That silenced him, a strange expression appearing on his face as he stared at her. It quickly disappeared with a shake of his head, his frown returning.

"I still don't like you," he said.

"That's fine," she said," anyway, I'm going to read this binder, is there a free room anywhere?"

"To your right," Dante said, waving at the door without attempting to fight again.

Progress, she supposed. She thanked him and entered the room, which essentially had the exact same interior as the interrogation room she had been in before. Did they keep everything so empty in this prison? Less items meant less danger, she supposed. She had just opened the binder when her phone went off, slightly on edge as she looked at the screen. There weren't many people who knew her number and out of all of them, there was one she especially didn't want to hear from these days.

"Did you get another job?"

How did he already know? Then, another text.

"It doesn't matter. I'll find you."

"You're mine, Helene."