Cole tried to be accommodating as possible, but having an ironing board wedged under him wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world. Still, he kept quiet and didn't move or anything that would have complicated the process even more. He didn't really feel much like talking anyway, already starting to drift off again as John instructed Rosalie to elevate his leg with the pillows. It was going to be a pain to get around - maybe he'd need some crutches. What if the elevator decided not to work for him, though? He frowned at the thought.
He probably should have been a little more worried about falling, but John and Shane were clearly strong enough, even if Rosalie seemed a little distracted. It was understandable, but he couldn't even bring himself to ask if she was okay.
Once the neared the eighth floor, Cole realized they'd need his key - and damn it, with his luck the stupid cat would get out too. He just hoped she was under his bed or something and wouldn't want to be near the influx of strange people. "You'll need the key," he managed, shifting as slightly as he could to pull it out of his pocket. "802 is mine."