Alex sits promptly and folds his hands neatly into his lap, keen to appear attentive and agreeable and if at all possible avoid anyone looking too closely at his bike, or at least, not before he has the chance to himself anyway. There's no real familiarity here for him when it comes to psychologists, no unspoken instinct for how he should act or behave, but he figures the general one he's been using for his encounters with the hospital staff, with the sheriff, should do just fine.

Softly, and with a wince at the memory that's even mostly genuine, he agrees about the shock, says that he's still a little jumpy, maybe. Apologizes for it, even, ducking his head against his chest. He doesn't appear eager to meet her eyes.