Everything in this place was so new, so strange. It was fascinating. Niceus poked through foods he'd never seen before, stared in near-rapture at the fluorescent lights in the ceiling until his nurse had to forcibly drag him away. And every time they passed under another one in the hallway, he stopped, dug in his heels, and tried to peer closer at them until he was towed away.
As they approached the therapist's office, he scuffed his feet hard against the floor. "What is this MADE of?" he demanded, voice full of wonder, before he forced the nurse to propel him into the room.
Once inside, he fixated on the nearest lamp, picking it up and turning it upside-down to poke at the bulb. "Hot," he muttered, squinting, turning it to get a better look. "Is that... molten metal? I see, it's hot, so it glows, but how is it kept hot?"