Lester makes himself comfortable on the couch and scratches his stomach like the place is his own and he's just lounging at home. He doesn't know if there are consequences to not complying or what those consequences might be, so of course he has no inclination to start sharing just yet.

"Therapy has never been my thing. Never takes." He shrugs, gesturing for the guy to sit if he wants. "How long have you been in this shitstain? Don't suppose you have any idea how to get out?"

At the back of his mind he's a little concerned about the headache that's growing steadily. He doesn't usually get them so he's worried it may be related to all this, but makes sure not to let it show when he speaks to the other man.

"We don't do anything. Or they'll think we are susceptible to their bullshit every time."