The claustrophobia flares up immediately, of course, but so does some denning instinct that is just as deep and compelling as the trauma-based aversion is. So, he balks a little, bumps into Vincent as he sidles away from someone who brushes too close on their way out of the establishment, but then ducks in properly through the entryway and heads straight for the back.

Thank goodness the lunch crowd has cleared out, because he is set on taking over a corner booth meant for more than two people. He's big and needs extra room around him in order to feel a little less trapped, while also needing to feel a little bit sheltered and to have nothing but the wall at his back. A clear view of the rest of the space helps as well.

He has the air of someone whose skin is crawling as he cuts a dogged path for that booth and slides his way in, but does breathe a sigh of relief once he's settled.