(That moment when you have trouble arting)

Sage opened the doors his face impartial, almost bored. He didn't even look at Sasuke or Winter, focusing his gaze on the one he was assigned to; Naruto Foxheart. Without a word he simply leaned against the wall, eyes drifting shut as he waited for the others to arrive. His breathing was soft, rhythmic, calming. His hands, resting on his own arms which were crossed, tapped a small beat, a simple waltz. He seemed relaxed, detached from the world; which was the truth. It had been so simple to pick him, a man on the brink of insanity, spending his days locked up in his room conversing with beings that weren't there and wasting away his life, starving himself and staring at the same spot in the floor as if it was the most important thing. He'd been diagnosed with schizophrenia awhile back, but Sage knew that it was something more than that. But he didn't tell; nobody would believe him. A slight chuckle escaped his lips, and he opened his eyes, beginning to laugh just a little more, like he had been told a funny joke. Except, it wasn't a joke, and it wasn't funny... no, he realized why it had been so easy to pick him, the insane hermit. Because within the next four days he would die at the hands of the one he was meant to take care of; and to Sage, the idea was amusing.