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Robert had escaped this tic for long enough, he'd thought he was done with it. And then, just when it had left his mind seemingly for good, the all-too-familiar tic plagued him once more.
Janet looked up at him as his hand curled into a fist and slammed into his collarbone. She frowned sympathetically because she knew how much he absolutely hated this tic, and she couldn't exactly blame him. It always left him with a nice, hearty bruise after enough repetitions.
"Do you want a pillow or something?" she asked him. He glanced around- It was nighttime and the salon was closed. The others had already left for the night but he and Janet were staying late to tidy up for the next day. He frowned.
"I wouldn't- Porch!- Want you to have to- Lion! There's no lion!- Clean up on your own"
"It's fine" Janet dismissed. "You've done it plenty of times before when my anxiety's been too bad" she reminded. He nodded timidly and winced as he involuntarily punched himself in the collarbone five more times in rapid succession.
"Uh, yeah" he caved. "Yeah, a- Haha!- A pillow would be great"
Janet smiled and left to the back to grab the pillow off the staff couch.