Remus J. Lupin (alittleshabby) wrote in _bollocks_, @ 2008-06-27 22:15:00 |
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The best part, Remus found, about stays in the hospital ward was that no matter how many times he counted the ceiling bricks, the numbers never matched up, and so it was very nearly a new event each time he finalised and reached a number. Of course, one had to bear in mind a few variables: how much pain-numbing potion he'd taken that morning, how much sleep he did manage to fetch during the night, and just how much Hogwarts itself wanted to remain stable. Magical castles were bound to have their quirks, Remus reasoned, and perhaps he'd found one in that somehow ceiling bricks enjoyed vanishing or appearing because not once did he get a repeat count. Bothersome to say the least. Then again, when you've had your books snatched away, and Madam Pomfrey was receding with them and offering a mere "Tut-tut! Rest up, now." in reply to any frowning expressions imploring for just a hint of sympathy, there wasn't anything else to do. And that was a tremendous problem. Perhaps Remus was not the most active of his friends, nor the most restless, but once the crutches of a book were swiped out from beneath him, Remus Lupin tended to find himself trapped in a room with Boredom. It didn't make for great company. Remus shifted over on his side, head tucked down beneath one arm, and gave a weak groan. So he'd gathered a rather nasty scratch in the passing night, but it didn't seem so bad in comparison with the excessively nasty, gaping wounds that he'd encountered before. Still, it was the first full moon back at the castle, and tradition went to be withheld longer than necessary on the first event. There was the option of bolting out the door, but even for a lesser injury, any quick movements would likely mean reopening tetchy gashes, and he wasn't quite certain how to explain padding into the Gryffindor Tower and looking like he'd met an axe murderer in the halls preceding. “Lunch time, mate. Full report.” Sirius said with a wild salute to a passing student, who saluted back, just before making a mad dash down the halls. The other student disappeared into a classroom, unaware that Sirius opted to jump, skip, and otherwise romp through the almost empty hallway as he went about his mission. At this time most of his fellow comrades, well one or two, had a date with Arithmancy, leaving Sirius to be on his lonesome for this certain portion of the day. Often times he would occupy himself with agitating the house elves in the kitchen before lunch, or gallivant through different areas of the Castle. But on a more average routine, Sirius would find himself a certain mate to bother, one that also did not have Arithmancy during this part of the day. However, Sirius couldn’t go about his free time in a frivolous manner today. He really couldn’t, even if he most desperately wanted to, because the bloke he would ultimately bother had just recently thrashed about with ‘his fury little problem’. Sirius could still be a bother, but with an altogether different reason. James had nicknamed the werewolf connection with Remus ‘his furry little problem’ just to make discussing it easier, and less of a worrisome thing to Remus, who was currently the overlord of worry. Sirius always considered it Remus’s time of the month, because it was comical by insinuating a few things. But no matter what the name for it was, it meant serious business. Today Sirius was on a mission to check in with Remus, so that when Lunch time came he could report back to the other mates that awaited the news about Remus’s condition. Only thing was, no one could know that Sirius, James or Peter knew about Remus, so every month the checkup would have to be top secret. This year it was Sirius’s job to get in to see Remus as soon as possible, so there was a lot of hopeful prayer involved that he wouldn’t botch things up. He made it to the Hospital Wing without much cause for alarm, and so carefully he pushed himself past one of the doors and checked on the scene. No Madam Pomfrey could be seen, which then instigated Sirius to creep into the room with unsightly stealth-like moves; a few tiptoes here, a dash and a duck behind a bed over there, almost knocking into a stray table as he maneuvered this way and that until at last he was looking up at Remus from the foot of the boy’s bed. “Don’t move,” Sirius whispered in a rather loud way, even though it didn’t sound like much of a whisper. “And don’t say a word. Can’t give away my position.” He snaked a hand through an opening near the foot of the bed and gave Remus’s covered feet a poke. “I’m here under special, top secret, I’d-have-to-kill-you-if-I-told-you orders, from Commander Four-Eyes. Is your position secure?” One eye peeked through Remus’s fingers, looking down the bed and meeting with an all-too-expected pair of grey eyes peeking back. It closed, and for a few seconds, nothing at all happened. There was internal debate– mainly in the context of whether or not it would be better if he feigned sleeping or dead, and eventually a decision was reached. The arm lowered enough that, despite orders to not move, seemed necessary if Sirius really wanted any sort of answer that didn’t sound like ‘mhhrphmfgl’, which while completely legitimate, was difficult to make out. “Unless the bed rolls away? Quite secure,” Remus replied (after deciding that ‘don’t say a word’ was optional), whispering and rather not loudly in any such way. One side of his mouth turned up into a smile, creating an off-kilter grin at the mild humour. All right, so it wasn’t that great, but the potions usually made things about thrice as funny as they were normally. Vaguely aware that this was the case, he offered a shrug, which was actually harder to manage than he’d planned on given a tight wrapping around his left shoulder. He looked down at it, bitterly for the most fleeting of glances, then relocated the two eyes along the edge of the bed. Somehow that was funny, too, but this time Remus opted to simply blink as a response. Next question would have been something to the effect of “Why are you poking my feet and what time is it?” but given some judgment on the matter of that being too forward, Remus remained silent. He blinked again for good measure. The Quaffle, it seemed, was in Sirius’s hands and Remus fancied that for being told to not speak nor move, he likely wouldn’t be any good with catching the metaphorical ball should it have been tossed. Which it wasn’t. But should it have, what’s a bloke to do without permission to do more than breathe at it? In the musky caverns of Remus Lupin’s brain after a full moon, this sort of situation tended to bother more than it did an alert Remus Lupin’s brain. That would be because an alert Remus Lupin usually had a better helping of good sense at his disposal to not even ponder something so idiotic for more than one second. At present, the three second mark was fast approaching and he hadn’t quite sussed out what it was he ought to be doing. As the time marker hit five, the absolute ridiculousness of fit all sank in, and Remus’s brows finally knitted. “At the risk of being killed… what on Earth are you doing, Sirius?” Sirius glanced one way, back up at Remus, then glanced another way, while trying to calculate how clear the coast was. The Hospital Wing was pretty empty, luckily, what with school only a few weeks in. Quidditch season had started, but only just practice so there weren’t any causalities yet. All in all it was really empty and depressing in the room, which made Sirius feel more antsy and anxious than ever. He was about to poke at Remus’s foot again, when finally the sorry sod moved a bit, and spoke. It was enough for Sirius to crouch down and move to the better side of the bed; the side Remus had just faced moments before. Sirius’s first assessment of Remus noticed the placement of a bandage right off the bat and cringed. “If the bed does roll… mind if I just roll you up to the common room?” Sirius finally spoke, after rearranging himself and adjusting his position so it was easy on Remus. The poor bloke could go back to resting on his side because he’d be able to see Sirius with the way he crouched down. Besides, he was also hiding himself between Remus’s bed and the empty one behind him. For special effect Sirius attempted to push the bed with a nudge of his hands to see how easily it’d move. Either Remus weighed a ton, or the bed wasn’t about to go anywhere anytime soon. “On second thought, it seems like you’re stuck in here.” Then suddenly Sirius’s mind went blank. -You know those awkward silences that happen between two people when there’s some kind of emotional distress between one, and sometimes both? Sirius was stuck in something like that as he observed his mate. It’s not like he never saw Remus like this before; many times in the past him, James, and Peter snuck in to check up on Remus every chance they got. Only this was the first for the year, after a three month period of no school, no Remus, no hospital visits. The first was always the worse, Sirius figured. Felt like it, too. He was tangled up in emotions he didn’t understand or know how to handle, and it left him slack jawed and blank in the head. Until this stomach grumbled. “Have they fed you yet? You look like you’ve been living on rocks for months. Or under them. With them. Those awful, ugly things. A rock diet will probably end the same way it began. Lots of pain.” “Good thing,” Remus returned, gratefully taking to resting down again, though he’d be the first to say that it– ‘it’ covering a variety of wounds, ranging widely in severity over the years such that ‘it’ had lost a fixed value– didn’t hurt terribly, and there wasn’t any problem with discomfort. Even if there clearly was, admission of needing help just wasn’t something that came readily to him. Somehow it always felt like burdening others, and for his own sake, they ought not to have to do anything. He’d held that belief since day one, and didn’t seem very keen on relenting. Fortunately, the others appeared to have picked up on the fact that you couldn’t wait for a Lupin to stop being stubbornly selfless enough to ask for anything. “You’d likely have me killed trying to get this thing across the castle,” Remus continued, fixing Sirius with a quirked brow expression, as the other boy ceased his attempted to unfix the bed from its spot. “I really do enjoy living. ‘S a fact. Suppose that someone must care enough to have made sure that the bed is Sirius-proofed. Fan–“ One hand reached out quickly and forced Sirius’s head down just moments before Madam Pomfrey had walked back into immediate area, suspicion narrowing her eyes. Remus looked up, doing his best impression of Aloof. Seeing nothing amiss, the nurse carried herself away once more. Voice even quieter, Remus risked to finish, “Fantastic, that.” After which he eyed the entryway through which Pomfrey had come and gone for a few ticks of a moment; when she didn’t reappear, he turned his attention away and downward to give Sirius an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Just preserving the sanctity of your top secret mission. And no– haven’t been eating rocks, living under them, or with them any more than this entire castle is made of them.” He paused thoughtfully, then added: “I did have toast, though.” There was a moment when Sirius wanted to protest against the awkward push on his head, but some sort of better reasoning smacked him sourly across the face making him realise that Remus had his reasons and Sirius had better keep quiet. He maneuvered downward without a fight, and held his breath once the initial conflict had waned. Obviously something was wary, and could possibly mean- Well, it did. Remus confirmed as much when he let Sirius go and apologised. For better observation, Sirius leaned up and looked around the room before ducking down again, but he decided to use the edge of Remus’s bed as support for his heavy arms. “A little bed racing wouldn’t kill you, mate.” He replied with a tilt of his head. “The thrill alone would be worth it, though the stairs could get tricky. Just a minor set-back.” For good measure, and because his imagination demanded it, Sirius looked under the bed to see what kind of legs it had. No wheels, which were unfortunate, but the frame could support a kind of makeshift sledding device; maybe two smooth pieces of iron beneath and the bed could easily tackle the incline of stairs. Up the stairs would be a whole other problem. Perhaps if they found a few sledding dogs and pulled the bed upward— “Toast?!” Sirius straightened with a disagreeable face, all thoughts about bed sledding were lost over the topic of food. “That’s just as bad rocks, unless you had pepperoni and pickles layering the top.” Sirius regarded Remus with a serious glance, as his brain calculated the odds, before he deflated on the spot and leaned on his arms that had folded on the edge of the bed. “No- no your stomach couldn’t handle the sour and the spicy at the same time. You had it plain, didn’t you? How will you live off of plain, Remus? A boy like you needs his ten essential food groups.” Remus waited for Sirius to get it all out of his system before he shook his head. “No. No bed racing. It would kill me, and I’m sure of it. You can go on yourself, but I’m decidedly good taking a pass on the offer,” he protested, worriedly following Sirius’s line of sight down to where the other Gryffindor was appraising the posts. Part of Remus knew he really wasn’t so mad that he would actually try it, but with Sirius Black there was always room for surprise, and one had to be in top form and good health to withstand the event of such unforeseen shocks. Just about to press on to the next thought in line on that particular tangent (i. e. Didn’t hospital wing-bound students get some sort of excuse to not be asked to do anything stupid?) was Remus, when Sirius bolted upward. Remus flinched back, partly due to the sudden movements, but mostly because of the increase in volume. His eyes shot to where Madam Pomfrey’s location was assumed, but luckily it didn’t sound as though she heard. “Quietly, Sirius. Quietly,” he pressed. To be safe he allowed one more silent moment to pass, one hand held up to indicate to Sirius that he was listening in. When nothing happened, he relaxed again. “There was jam with the toast. That’s not plain,” Remus replied fairly, hand lowering to its respective side. Toast and jam were as traditional as bread and butter. There wasn’t any arguing with toast and jam. “And where did you happen to come up with ten food groups? I can see making an allowance for sweets and chocolates as one, but that still leaves three mysteries.” When Remus hushed him, Sirius leaned back from his spot in regret, hoping he wasn’t so loud as to disturb his mission. James would kill him, and Peter would cheer over his death, this was certain. As Remus held up a hand, Sirius checked out his options. He could hide under the bed; press himself up against the mattress from underneath in some sort of acrobatic, gravity-defying move. He could jump into the bed next to Remus and pretend he had been there all the time. He could, maybe, transfigure himself into a bedpan, but that might have disastrous results. Before he could decide the best action, Remus was talking to him again, which meant he was safe. For now. “Sorry,” was his immediately response, make sure it was known- without doubt, that Sirius was regretting his vocal range. He slowly crept back to lean on Remus’s bedside, propping up an elbow so he could support his chin in a palm. “From my countless adventures and experiments, I’ve come to the conclusion that there are, in fact, ten essential food groups that all men should encounter at least once in their life. Though I’d like to think that if one takes the necessary steps to digest them regularly, it’d build character.” Giving Remus a smile, Sirius moved his head out of his hand so he could use that hand to count off. “First there’s meat. That’s the most important. I don’t think boys could become men without meat in their diet. That’s a must have on a daily basis sort of group. Then there’s the dairy group, and then the fruit group- sometimes able to be mixed together like strawberry ice cream. Then there’s the sugar group. Candy, sprinkles, that sort. The spice group; salts, pepper, those curry meals with the jalapeños! Tabasco sauce and the like. Good stuffs.” Sirius wiggled his five fingers at Remus before continuing on. “Then we have the rest- which are at the bottom of the list because they aren’t really that important to have on a daily basis, but you know. They are there, regardless. Top of that list is the bread group. Like your bloody toast. It’s good for pastas and rolls lobbed with honey, but it really isn’t essential. Then there’s the vegetable group. Give or take, sometimes it’s great, like tomatoes are fun, and then sometimes it’s not so hot like boring carrots. Carrot cake, though… that’s lovely. Then we have insectan group; worms are the best, but I’ve digested a fly or two and they seem to be okay usually. Unless I’ve found I’ve chewed them and then it’s not very tasty at all. After that is the nature group. I’ve eaten dirt, not like chunks or anything, but I have and it wasn’t too horrible. I’ve also been known to gnaw on wood and such. There’s something to be said about plants that can help in the right way. Like Gillyweed. And last, but not least, the miscellaneous group. Anything that doesn’t fall into the other nine categories. Like paper, I’ve eaten paper before. Or my nails… sometimes I don’t spit them out all the way and down they go. Also this one time I accidentally chewed through part of my cheek, which… I don’t know. That could be considered part of the meat group, if you think about it.” Sirius shrugged and put his head back into the palm of his hand. The trouble with trying to wrap one’s head around the logic of Sirius Black was that if you weren’t Sirius Black, it often was unwrappable. Or rather, if you happened to be Remus Lupin, you simply felt it was unwrappable because it often gave you a distinct feeling of knowing less then when you entered the conversation. The best tactic, Remus had found, was to take a proposed general concept and make a comment about it. It made you seem attentive, at the very least. Remus had caught the following: dirt, flies, and fingernails. Remus then concluded the following: Eurgh. He looked at Sirius, and after phrasing his opinion into understandable English, ventured to ask: “You came down here to see if you could make me heave, didn’t you?” The thought would have carried on in a manner of “And thank-you, very much, but I already retched this morning. That about fulfils the daily quota, I should think.” But Remus had opted to pull a grimace instead, silently turning his focus onto a more productive task of thinking up pleasant things. His eyes closed, more so to block out the room and the one other occupant while he reclaimed control over his gag reflex, which was much touchier post-full moon. It seemed safe after precisely three seconds, and when Remus risked another glance, there was Sirius, looking upward still. At least he wasn’t still discussing his discovery of nonedible things actually being edible, but mostly foul-tasting. It was an improvement. “Couldn’t we talk about… oh, anything else. How about how many ceiling bricks there are? Because I’ll swear, the number never matches up each time I try,” Remus attempted. “Four hundred nineteen this round. Four hundred twenty-two the round before last. Honestly, if counting bricks in itself isn’t maddening, you’d think you were losing it when you can’t ever come up with the same number twice.” His mouth twisted into a wry upside-down crescent as he retraced his words. “Listen to me, Sirius. I’m losing it. She took my books and I’m losing it. I can’t stay here. I feel perfectly fine aside from the fact that I have to stay here.” Sirius regarded Remus with as close to a straight face as he could muster; corners of his mouth turned faintly upward, and his eyes narrowed into the incline of his eyebrows, which did not seem very straight-laced at all. In fact Sirius couldn’t really force himself to not think of the comical and the insane aspects of the question that was said. Vomit, you see, was an interesting action. Interesting meant good things to Sirius, even if to everyone else it was decidedly bad. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to prod his mate and ask him if the toast and jam will come up in different colours. He wanted to continue on just to see what would happen. But the situation, and his current position- bent down, elbow and arm leaning on the edge of a hospital bed, Remus looking particularly wary, did conquer over all. Unfortunately. Sirius decided to move a bit back from trying to take over a part of the bed, and sat on his heels as his knees connected with the floor. At least, from this angle, he’d be able to see the vomit if it just happened to grant his wish and come forth. Might even get covered it in, which had its drawbacks, but also its quirks. However the whole vomit conversation twisted into a new one that involved Remus appearing and sounding as if he lost his mind. Sirius eyed the other boy with curious fascination, which gradually toned down into helpless sympathy in some kind of frown that removed any smirk there could have been. It was hard to hear Remus sound so completely lost. Lost? Was that the right word for it? Books couldn’t be that important, could they? Were they like food to Sirius? He couldn’t imagine ever being without food. That’d be Armageddon. “I could… maybe… sneak one in when I come back?” Sirius actually sounded like the words he spoke hurt him. It was just that he was usually the one that pried books away from Remus. Definitely not the other way around. But his mate was having a seizure or a mental breakdown, or a mid-life crisis at fifteen… who knows. Something was happening and Sirius didn’t like to hear, see, or feel the pain of it. “You could hide it under your pillow… what should I fetch you? I have to say reading something would be far better than going crazy over bricks in the bloody ceiling, mate. Let me sneak something from the Library, maybe? A big encyclopedia about bricks, perhaps?” “I’ve decided,” Remus began, “That the hospital wing is designed such that anyone whose ailment doesn’t involve being passed out, is prompted to want to be passed out for the severe lack of anything to do.” That about covered it. It wasn’t the books so much as the idea that books were something to do, and about the only something that wouldn’t have Madam Pomfrey up in arms about personal safety. Aside from the occasional paper cut, books posed no danger. Even when Sirius lobbed one at your head, because you usually could duck– and anyway, that wasn’t a typical activity that Remus partook in. All Remus asked of a book was that it allowed itself to be read. They were a cooperative sort of item like that. “You don’t have to go to the L-word place, Sirius.” The frown had dissolved nearly by then, mostly because of Sirius’s reaction. It was Gryffindor bravery at its best when Sirius Black offered to do such a thing for a friend. “I know you’re allergic to it,” Remus told the other boy, fetching a mild grin. “And, anyway, I was going to try and plead for my freedom. Only a few… er, well – scratches, such as they are, this time.” Remus paused, absent-mindedly rubbing a hand over the bandaged spot on his shoulder. It may have looked bad, but it really wasn’t. In fact, the bleeders usually were his preference just because they seemed to be set on getting all their fuss out at once and healing up quickly and without any trouble. “I’m not exactly fragile… She has to realise that after so many years. Tried to say that before so I wouldn’t miss Potions, as Merlin knows that class already causes me enough grief without having been absent.” As Remus spoke, Sirius’s mind was retaining only the information it needed to know, throwing aside any relevant words that could possibly detain him, before he acted on the desire that formed from all the things he thought were important to hear. ‘Lack of anything to do. Allergic. Scratches. Not fragile.’ All of those key phrases equaled the idea that worked the right gears, and itched the right joints that had Sirius lunge up. He climbed up onto the bed, a part of his hip rested on the edge, and leaned down to examine Remus’s shoulder in such way that it almost looked as if he was going to sniff it. One hand reached over Remus to support his weight entirely, as the other came up as close as his face did to the shoulder in question. His body loomed dangerously above half of Remus. One would hope his left arm did not collapse and let Sirius fall. Remus may not be fragile, but Sirius wasn’t exactly light as a feather, either. “Does it hurt?” A finger straightened out from his curled right hand to lightly poke at the bandaging. “Think it’ll scar?” He gave the bandage one more look-over before leaning away to glance at Remus. “Did the shack put up a good fight this time? It probably missed you.” Sirius played a smile for his mate, and then eased himself away so that he wasn’t invading Remus Lupin’s personal space. Sirius knew all about that ‘space’ but really didn’t mind it and liked to find out what all the fuss was over this space in the first place. This time Remus’s space felt restless. “I’ve been known to put my health aside for the likes of my friends, Remus. If the Library is where I have to go, I’ll not hesitate. Besides, I do have to remind that Pince woman that I’m back for another year. I’m sure she cannot wait to glare at me again.” Sirius lifted his brows and grinned mischievously at the thought, and then slipped off the bed to stand. He gave Remus a light pat on his good shoulder. “Madam Pomfrey isn’t going to let you leave. Not with that battle scar. So I am going to fetch you a few things, and come back with the others so they can give you blessings, or offerings, or whatever. James might kiss you… he’s been getting urges to do that to Evans, I think.” He moved a few inches away from Remus’s bed, and then saluted the other boy in a silly, half-arse move. “I’ll make sure the books have a lot of pictures. That’ll help.” Remus’s brow contracted as Sirius advanced. It was bourne of unthinking habit that he shied back– or at least tried to– into the bed itself, despite there being nowhere to really go. Once Sirius had pulled back enough to actually speak with again, the slightly alarmed expression hadn’t faded completely, but an ill-placed smile had tried to layer itself over, creating a mess of an awkward line for a mouth and a look that seemingly couldn’t decide to convey one emotion or another. It honestly did hurt his cheeks to be pinned in such a weird contortion, but otherwise? “Burns a bit, as expected. Probably will scar, and I think the banisters assaulted me during the night, but I’d assume that– Movement was sensed out of the corner of Remus’s eye, and he stopped to turn toward where he thought it was. Nothing there. It couldn’t be helped. During the full moon, there was that extra bit of wolf that loved to make itself known, and staring intently at things happened to be part of the package deal. Remus tried not to, just for the sake of trying not to creep anyone else out. “Yes, I picked the fight,” he distantly finished. It was perhaps a second too long that his eyes fixed on the far-away spot, but he did eventually pull his attention away with some annoyance in finding he’d done such a thing. Again. By the time Remus was properly following the conversation again (v. important given that he was half of it), it seemed to be telling that Sirius had made up his mind to go. Remus’s face softened, snatching up his usual mild brand of a smile along the way. “I suppose ‘hospital’ ward, though less honest, sounds chummier than ‘prison’ ward. I’m still planning on attempting to have my sentence ended early, though.” Remus shrugged faintly. “Couldn’t hurt to try. And, you tell James that I’m not that sort of bloke, all right? I don’t want him to have his dreams crushed when I turn him down. And try not to have Madam Pince get too miffed at you. And…” He paused, tapping his fingers and counting with an unfocused look. “Did I get all my warnings in? I think I did.” Remus lowered his hand, turning over on his side just enough to reframe Sirius in his view, now that the other Gryffindor was standing. “Better go, Sirius. You’re in plain sight and Madam Pomfrey will be wondering why there’s someone in here that didn’t ask her if he could be in here,” he rambled on. Even if his mouth hadn’t realised it, his instincts were starting to assume control to fetch some well-needed rest, and his eyes closed. “Just… not too many pictures, yeah?” Sirius took one more look at Remus’s shoulder, then at Remus, and then decided to sneak a glance around before returning his attention back to his bedridden mate. He couldn’t stand being in the room for a long time himself, so it was no wonder Remus was suffering as he was. Sirius tried not to sigh, or show his displeasure over the whole ordeal, so instead he shoved his hands into pockets and distracted his attention to how ugly the floor was. “I always knew you had issues with banisters, Remus. You do give them an evil eye from time to time. –just hang tight, alright?” The decision to switch topics was something Sirius couldn’t help. Wounds were cool, uncomfortable and injured mates were another. “I’m not telling James anything, because I think he likes being crushed. Why else would he start getting all stupid around Evans? And Madam Pince likes to be miffed. It’s what reminds her that she’s alive. Her rage for me gives her reason to keep living. Not miffing her would be like making her commit suicide.” Carefully he shuffled back a few steps, while glancing for any signs of Madam Pomfrey. He decided Remus had the right idea, and quickly moved to tap on the footboard of the bed. A goodbye signal of sorts. “It’s going to be a pop-up book, then. Because you love those.” He teased quietly, and then without a second thought Sirius rushed out of the room and past the Hospital doors before he could get caught. |