✝Lovino Vargas✝ was curled up on his bed with his legs up to his chest, nervously tapping his hand on his knee. He knew he had an appointment today, and was dreading every moment leading up to it. Who was he going to have to talk to now? He didn't want to think about it. All he wanted was to be alone. The silence in the room comforted him, and the thought of another voice filling his peaceful quiet didn't ease his worry. Not to mention he'd have to handle yet another doctor speaking with him in that annoying tone, as if they were talking to a child. It pissed him the fuck off. '... I don't belong here.' He thought to himself, closing his now tearing eyes with a frown. Maybe it all just wasn't real? No, the thought of that unsettled him more. He shivered slightly at the thought, tugging his sleeves rather roughly.

Antonio Fernández Carriedo strolls through the corridors, whistling a traditional folk tune. He twirls a pen in between his fingers, a clipboard held to his chest. Overall, it's been a pretty uneventful (and therefore, monotonous) day at the facility; hopefully, the recently interred patient he's booked a session with will be interesting enough to compensate for the insipidity of the morning. He never fails to get excited at the prospect of meeting a new resident of the wards, and today isn't an exception; he's beaming already, wondering just what this Lovino Vargas will be like. He'd read over his medical files during his coffee break, and while he's got the general gist of his character and how he'd ended up in the asylum, the details of his personality are yet to be revealed. But that's about to change, he thinks giddily, as he stops in front of one of the Ward C doors, lifting a hand and knocking three times in rapid succession. "Good afternoon, amigo!" he calls, taking care to not look in through the window despite his curiosity--best to respect what little privacy these patients have.

✝Lovino Vargas✝ Why did Lovino need a therapist? He'd be fine without one, and he has been for most of his life... Sort of. They just made him frustrated, and would stress him out if they kept asking the same thing. They ask too many questions he didn't want to answer. They'd ask him what he felt, what he heard or saw, and he didn't want to say. It was his personal business. ​He shouldn't tell them anything, anyways.​ Lovino squeezed his eyes shut, pained at the sudden sound of Antonio's knocking. He covered his head, hearing the knocking echo through his skull. "Go away!" He blurted out, pulling at his hair a bit as the sound eventually faded.

Antonio Fernández Carriedo only gives a mirthful little chuckle at that; it would appear that he's got a feisty one on his hands. Something tells him that this encounter will most certainly be an enthralling one. Placing a hand onto the doorknob, he says in a chipper yet incisive tone, "I'm going to open the door now, sir! Are you all dressed and ready for your appointment?"

✝Lovino Vargas✝ Did he just laugh? Oh, ha ha. ​Fuck you.​ "W-Wha-? Of course I'm dressed, dammit!" Lovino snapped, glaring at the door with balled up fists. "What the fuck makes you think I wouldn't be?" And what was with this guy's upbeat tone? This place was miserable, and there was nothing to really be happy about. To him, anyways.

Antonio Fernández Carriedo "Ah! Well, you see, friend, it is standard protocol around here to make such inquiries!" he replies, "And with good reason, too. With the medley of characters one comes across in this place, it is not too far-fetched to assume that some individuals may overlook the act of being completely clothed before meeting with a staff member--which is completely fine, of course! But it isn't something that we would wish to have to deal with, on a reoccurring basis. I hope you understand!" He concludes this with a twist of the brass knob, and pushes the door open wide, a wide beam stretched on his face.

✝Lovino Vargas✝ Were there really people here that were weird enough to be naked during a therapy session? Whatever, it's not like he'd meet any of them anyways. Hopefully. As Antonio opened the door, his frown deepened. The smiling Spaniard was met with Lovino's scowling, tear-stained face, and hair that was a bit too messy. Knees up to his chest, he then tucked his face under his arms with a huff. The Italian looked rather miserable, the complete opposite of the other. Although he was sure it wasn't anything Antonio hadn't seen, it was humiliating to be seen in such a state. Afraid of choking up while speaking, he stayed silent.

Antonio Fernández Carriedo raises an eyebrow as he takes in the sight of the brown haired youth sitting on his bed, one hand still on the knob. In truth, he hadn't expected this patient to look so..well, vulnerable. In fact, he'd been halfway prepared for a physical confrontation as soon as he had opened the door, with how abrasive the other's tone had been mere moments prior. Smile still plastered on his face, he gestures to the entranceway, careful to not come across as too insistent in his body language. "Shall we go, friend?" he offers.

✝Lovino Vargas✝ kept his gaze away from the other. For some reason, the Italian just expected the other to stare and stare like most did. But the Spaniard's smiling annoyed him just as much as staring would. Why did he look so happy? No one had any reason to be happy in this place in his opinion. At the mention of leaving the room, he tensed up a bit. It wasn't like he had any choice on wether or not to go for his session. ​He couldn't argue. He shouldn't.​ "Fine! He suddenly snapped, pushing off of his bed . "A-And I'm not you're friend, dammit!" He snarled, and roughly wiped at his teary face as he tried to turn his head from the other. Antonio didn't need to be concerned about his body language. Lovino couldn't read it very well anyways.

Antonio Fernández Carriedo can't help but give a laugh; this teenager's mannerisms are all too endearing. "Am I not?" he replies. "We are standing in the same room and having a pleasant conversation, so I would beg to differ! Now, come with me, please." As he says this, he steps back out into the hallway, holding the door open and waiting expectantly for the other to follow suit.

✝Lovino Vargas✝ Why was he laughing at him? What did he do wrong? Lovino felt his face redden, and he gave Antonio an infuriated look. "Shut the fuck up!" He blurted out, panicking slightly. He didn't know what he did to make the other so amused, and it frustrated him. At the mention of them being 'friends' again, he turned his head towards the other. "O-Of course you're not my god damn friend! I don't even know you!" Lovino snapped. "And I'd call this conversation anything but pleasant!" He rubbed the sides of his head furiously, a nervous tick he had. ​What is wrong with you?​

Antonio Fernández Carriedo 's eyes crinkle in amusement, and with a chuckle, he taps his foot on the tiled linoleum floor, making a show of pushing back the sleeve of his white coat and looking pointedly at his watch. "We haven't got all day, unfortunately, mi  amigo!" he says, lifting his head once more to give the other a relaxed yet somewhat watchful look. "Wouldn't you rather continue this talk in the comfort of a nice chair, in an air-conditioned office?"

✝Lovino Vargas✝ God fucking damn it. Why wouldn't the other stop smiling at him? Whenever he snapped back at other doctors, some of them would look visibly uncomfortable or frightened. Not like he wanted them to be, he just usually didn't understand that his outbursts would trigger a reaction like that. But Antonio just didn't care. It was a sudden change that he didn't enjoy, although he didn't enjoy the initial reaction at all. Lovino scowled at the other, pushing past him through the doorway. "Fine." He hissed. "You jerk."

Antonio Fernández Carriedo beams; progress has been made! He leads the youth through the corridors, humming gaily and looking over his shoulder every few steps to ensure that the teen is still there. After all, the last thing this facility needs is to have a patient on the loose. For about a minute or so, the only sounds comes from their footsteps and the reverberations that echo throughout the narrow hall, and he decides that now is probably about a good time to speak up. "So," he says conversationally, "How was your day?"

✝Lovino Vargas✝ followed behind, staring at the walls as he walked. He began to count the tiles to pass the time, trying to ignore the echoing of their footsteps. One... Sixty... Two-hundred and fifty-seven... They were averagely small tiles... Too many to count on their walk. As he got lost in the counting, he faintly heard Antonio ask a question. He snapped his head in the others direction, blinking. Lovino showed a deep scowl as he grew frustrated with himself. "I-!" He started, but paused. ​He asked how your day was.​ Shaking his head, the Italian rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "Fine." He murmured. "It was fine I guess..."

Antonio Fernández Carriedo nods at that. "That's wonderful to hear," he says, and it really is; in no time at all, he's going to be great friends with this young man. Rounding the corner and stopping in front of the door to his office, he pulls his keys from his pocket, inserting it into the lock on the doorknob and pushing the door open. He then steps aside, grinning as he faces the other. "Come in," he says.