The tiny bit of hope in Fisher's heart was extinguished, and then once again brought alive. They would figure something out. And he believed it. James looked sincere, if not smug. After all, James now had someone at his disposal, someone who was desperate and had nothing to lose. Junkies were good to have as lackeys. Smiling a little, Fisher nodded. He felt... happy. He actually felt happy. He'd be a lot happier if he couldn't see four dead patients walking around the rec room, but one step at a time.
"Okay," he agreed to James' request. It wasn't that he liked throwing himself into walls, he just didn't know what else to do with himself all night. But he would try and not do anything. Maybe he'd sleep in the day, or put himself in restraints and just force himself to slowly go mad in his bed, or something. He could think of something.
What James did not realize was that he did have a maseusse at his disposal. Fisher watched the other man stretch, watched the scowl on his face at his obvious discomfort. He swallowed, hesitant. "Do you need... anything?" he asked meekly, half terrified James would simply break his jaw for even offering.