Darius rolled his eyes, while the words were assuring, he did not actually care. Even a fool could be right, he reasoned. And if this man was allowed to call himself doctor, he must be right sometimes.

He hadn't noticed the change in expressions as he barely looked at him. When asked about the illness, he gave a dramatic slump to emphasize his lack of energy. "I've not been well for years, to be honest. But these last days..or weeks. It has escalated. Perhaps it is the stress of being the heir and trying to keep my father from changing things because he is mad at mother. Or maybe because my... friend... married even though she said she loved me." He moved to lay side ways so he could stare up at the ceiling.

"My family hate me, have for years. My only real friend died years ago. I am not appreciated for my artistic gifts. I think my lawyer may be cheating me, he definitely isn't showing any progress in helping me. I haven't had a steady flow of alcohol since father went mad and tossed it out. I think all of this is becoming too much."

He raised a hand to cover his eyes. "Or maybe I shouldn't have slept with that model. Calliope is a strange one and I hadn't spoken to them since. I knew sex would ruin me." He groaned in misery.

"I feel like I'm dead while still being alive. Is that enough?"