Re: [ER: Newt & Patrick]
"You look slick," the dude said, and Newt did look most nice. Patrick was accustomed to the bowtie and vest, and he had seen Newt wearing most different clothing lately. He wondered, at times, if this was due to Sue's disparaging comment about bowties, but he did not want to bring it back up by asking. Whatever, man, because the clothing was nice, and he watched as Newt comprehended about the camera. Newt waved a hand. He did not ask what Newt had done; he trusted that the camera was no longer showing what was happening in the room, and this was all the soothing he required. And, it showed, man, because the dude slouched back against the bed's raised back in a way he had not done prior.
Newt sat, and Patrick did not move his legs overly much, which meant his knee was against Newt, and the dude was fine with this. He was calmer even than on the weed, his pupils most small, tiny black and sluggish islands amid an ocean of seagreen. "You're pissed. Most Americanly pissed, my Newt." He was not aware the dude was avoiding terms of endearments or affections. Patrick had, himself, taken the 'my' off Newt's name since his return, but he did not recall this at present. Or, more to the point, man, it did not matter. He was seated there, feeling entirely despondent, despite the sedation, and what did one 'my' matter in the face of that? He was young, was Patrick, and this entire situation most entirely felt like the end of his life. Or, rather, man, he wished it was the end of his life, for he did not know how to recover.
"Did he tell you where I was?" He knew Adrian and Newt were supposed to not speak, but a very large part of him hoped his older bro had not called the police on him and then neglected to make sure he was all right, and Patrick had not seen the dude in the three hours he had spent in the hospital. Maybe he looked most young as he made that inquiry, and his gaze dropped to his own knee in an echo of Newt's gaze. "Is my knee most interesting?" As for how he felt: "Man, I am beyond ashamed, and I would rather be dead than have people learn of this." He was candid in sedation, and he picked at the bedding at his side. The plastic bracelet on his wrist was loose against golden skin, and he looked down at it a moment before lifting his gaze upward again.