He hesitates. Part of him thinks he would feel better if he talks, another part insists it's just giving people ammo to use against him later, not to mention that clearly nobody cares about his feelings or opinions. And how much details would be too much? But if he doesn't talk it out, won't he just implode later on?

"After those terrible tortures," he mutters, finally giving up on scrubbing for the time being, though he's pointedly looking at his bucket rather than Suzaku. "When -- when they were throwing us in ice water, and locking us up for-- show." It sort of feels like his soul is leaving his body just talking about it. He feels numb, as if he's separated from reality by a thick layer of plastic. Looking from the outside. "I was in the... hospital, since then." Mercy had also packed up and went along with Lucifer, of course, but it wasn't much difference to him. One white room was the same as the other. "They-- said it was for treatment, but-- I don't feel any better."