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There had been time to sneak away from this situation, Michal realized entirely too late. Psyke hadn't even noticed him when she walked up, so he certainly could have taken the opportunity to casually stroll back inside with nothing more than a burnt face. Instead, however, it seemed his body had decided to freeze at the sight of a familiar face outside of his sister and his best friend, and his brain ran out of ideas as what to do next. What else could he do but sit there and pray to all the gods in all the worlds that Psyke would be her usual oblivious self and not notice her friend (debatable)/housemate (obligatory)/ex (debatable)/enemy (frequently) sitting directly in front of her a ways away? Michal sat perfectly still, only breaking his posture when Psyke addressed him.

"Uhhhhh," he let out dumbly, jaw hanging low as he let his words get away from him. What in the bleeding hell was he doing here? Well, technically, he was pretty sure his file said something about mild alcoholism and mental instability, but officially, as Seth had put it, he was here to 'get his brain back together to the Michal they all knew and loved.'

Whatever that meant.

Though, begrudgingly, Michal did have to admit he knew what Seth was talking about. And... he felt flashes of his old self beginning to resurface again. That was good, his Healer had said, it was good to acknowledge reality and himself. It was also important to not lie, to himself or others. Keeping this in mind, Michal kept his mouth open a little bit longer as he toyed with what to finally say to Psyke. His face felt hot as he pressed his palms into his thighs.

Merlin's saggy left ball did it really have to be Psyke of all people sitting across from him? Couldn't it be--- literally anyone else? Literally? His ears burnt.

He had to tell the truth, didn't he?

"Nervous breakdown," Michal began to mumble, just above an audible breath. "Tried to hit Seth with a firewhiskey bottle apparently." He paused, and out of the corner of his eye reaffirmed that she was, in fact, dressed in outside world apparel and not the robes provided by center. "Head's not right."