Jasper had hardly been awake minutes before he was ordered to remain in the observation room, groggy and hungry, but the fridge was right there. At first, he hadn't felt particularly put out--it wasn't as though he could go very far, anyway, according to his watch, so he lingered on the sterile smelling bed, playing Chess against his phone and growing incrementally uneasy as the doctors that were supposed to be recording the status of his unfortunate condition neglected to return.
By the time they did, Jasper was pacing, games forgotten and heavy, black bag packed with all of the sustenance he needed for the coming weeks clutched in his arms. "Can I go?" he demanded, more rude than his mother had raised him to be and forcing him to sniff and correct, "Sorry, may I?"
One of the medical staff locked the door, eyes locked on Jasper's the whole time through the window. Gingerly, she stepped back, watching warily until the last second when she turned and fled, leaving Jasper alone again. "Hey!" he called after her, dropping the bag and pounding on the window. "HEY! What's happening?!"