Suffered how? The question sat on the tip of his tongue but went unspoken. For now. His eyes watched as the figure appeared. He had the kinda face that belonged to people who needed a good punch in the face. Maybe it was because Alex painted him with what he knew of him. He was an ass, apparently, and Fred's life got fucked over pretty hard because of him. For someone who talked as much as Alex did, he stood silent, almost fading into the background were it not for his louder choice of clothing.
The tears were hard to watch. Alex felt uncomfortable crying himself, and he felt a little uncomfortable seeing other people cry too. It was especially awkward since Fred was just looking at him the whole time. He knew it was to maintain the illusion, but still. Breaking eye contact would be hard to do and cut her off when she was finally talking.
And then Fred and her illusion were beating on the man. Yeah, that probably didn't happen, he thought and then he said, "Fred." In her illusion he moved, walking over toward her. Alex wasn't stupid enough to try to pull her off, because maybe there was something therapeutic about this for her but she had to stop. Even just to get a grip.
"Hey," he said a little loudly but knew she probably couldn't hear him. In the illusion he grabbed a chair and then smacked it on the ground next to her, "HEY!"