"I ..." he stares around, looking progressively more confused as each of you speak to him. "I don't know what you mean." he finishes, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. The look is somewhat weakened by the glances he keeps stealing at the breakfast nearby.<br/><br/>After a few moments he gives a sigh and takes the offered plate, eating hungrily. "Doctor said it was a traumatic expression of something or other." he speaks around a mouthful of food. "My father just thinks I'm doing it to get attention." He laughs bitterly. "Like I want to be known as a psychotic arsonist. That does wonders for your chances of picking up anyone in the clubs. Not that most of them will even let me in anymore." he adds, washing the food down with half a mug of whatever happened to be closest to hand.<br/><br/>He stops and looks around again. "Not to be rude or anything, but how can you possibly have any idea of what I'm going through. I don't even know what I'm going through. I can't figure out if knowing I'm going mad is a good thing or not. I mean, if you can question your own sanity, you still have it, right?"