Gunther took a look at her patient, noticing how she relaxed herself.  "You just saw that, didn't you?"  He mused, trying to gather his wits about him.  He walked close to the girl, placing an arm around her shoulder.  "I'm not well, I'm afraid. I need rest."  He admitted, his voice even more gentle than normal.  The madman was going to have to engage in some very unprofessional conduct if he wanted to keep the hallucinations at bay.  He swallowed his pride and asked his embarrassing question, the sweat of his fear still running down his body.  "Could you accompany me to my bed, and make sure I get the rest I need?"  He asked, realizing he was insane for trusting himself to a woman who he'd last seen stabbing someone to death, and seemed to be chanting her multiplication tables as an autohypnosis technique.<br/><br/>Gunther realized that her behavior was actually a source of his ability to trust her.  She'd clearly been given some psychological training, With that, Gunther remembered the penlight he'd brought into the asylum, and pulled it out of the pocket on his coat, turning it on and casting a dim light throughout the room.  "There is a light..."  Gunther mused softly, casting the light towards the wrecked remnants of where his chair had been bolted to the floor.