"Don't even mention therapy to me, buddy, my shrink was an asshole," B says, lightly enough do show he's not actually offended. "It's just an offer to maybe get some of the stress out. Because this place is stressful as hell."

He shifts the leash to his wrist and leans down a little to scratch behind Libby's ears, himself. "I didn't convince anybody, I was just asked if I wanted to stay in that tiny white room alone, or go help out on a ship where they're trying to make people happier." He looks away, down at Libby. "I think it's cuz I'm really good at pretending to be okay, which is all that matters. Lots of practice."

There's probably more to it, of course, but the pretending he figures is the important part.