Again, he found himself resenting Jace's words. The man had to mean well, right? It didn't matter. The way he talked reminded Florence of the way someone would talk to a dog, or a small child. It wasn't uncommon for him to feel this way at hospitals, but all the sudden stress was only amplifying his contempt. 

Despite all this he still allowed the man to assist him, still too numb to really put up a fight.

Florence unceremoniously flopped down on a seat, crossing his arms on the table and putting his head in them. He heard someone talking, but hadn't even taken the time to look at them. He wasn't sure if he [i]wanted[/i] to see them. Either way, he couldn't bring himself to care about anything in the room; even the food was a last priority to him.

Right now he wanted nothing more than to do nothing, or at least some more time to get used to his situation before he was thrown into everything. God knows how long he spent in the coma they put him in, but it was better than this. Really, he wanted to be home. He wanted nothing more than to be home in his small apartment in his shit town doing his HVAC work and adorning his parakeet with affection when he had the chance. 

He had been though hospitals enough to know how awful each stay was, but he had a feeling this would be a much, much longer stay. He turned his head so that the right side of his face was on the table, focused solely on Dr.Schwarzlicht.

[i]What happens from now, I wonder.[/i]