Alytra flew down the hall, calves burning, blood pumping. Where do I go? She was panicking. Was it left, or was it right? I don't remember... Her dark eyes flickered rapidly back and forth between the halls which continued in adjacent directions on either side of her. It wasn't straight, she knew that. She had learned that lesson last time... And she didn't feel like she needed a refresher. Not today. Picking up on the nearing click-clack of heels behind her, Alytra made a snap decision and hooked a right, throwing herself into the new expanse of white-washed, brightly-lit tile. A woman, white as the walls, eyed Alytra from at least ten yards away, and took a defensive position in the center of the hall.

Alytra didn't have time for her bullshit. She slid underneath the woman's lanky arms and skidded further down the hallway, skinning her knees and not giving a flying fuck about it. She simply bit her lip to fight against the yowl of pain that threatened to erupt from inside of her and leaped back to her feet. It was like she had never stopped running for an instant. Unfortunately, she turned in time to see the motley crew that were her current predators: a tall, gawky, light-skinned man with glasses and messy blonde hair that stuck out all over; a dark-haired young woman, small and tan, with eyes like slits and teeth like a tiger's; and, last but not least, an older woman, maybe mid-forties, who was large in stature and looked like she hadn't had any decent sex in over a decade.

Yes, these three, all in matching attire which was similar in shading to the rest of the place, were persuing Alytra rapidly... And they were gaining on her. Alytra turned her back on them once more to continue fleeing - and that's when she hit a wall. Well, not literally. What she actually ran into were long, veiny, ghastly pale arms and a hardened chest that felt like it belonged to a statue. Alytra peered up to see what - or rather, who - had, over the course of the past eight months, become her single most horrifying nightmare. Him. Jason. Standing right there in front of her, gripping her shaking arms, and staring threateningly into her eyes with his own crystal blue.

"What exactly are we doing, now, Alytra? Tsk, tsk, I would have thought that you'd learned your lesson the last time that I caught you... Misbehaving." He snickered, and began to chuckle sadistically, while simultaneously turning her swiftly to face the oncoming group of demons, pinning himself against her from behind and locking her wrists up inside of his hands. "Here you go, Doctor Remmington." Jason smirked, pushing Alytra in her direction. The taller of the two women took her hands from him and placed them in some plastic cuffs. "Thank you, Jason, you're a dear. Keep up the excellent work." Then, turning to Alytra, she snapped, "Let's go, you little bitch. Just wait until you see what I'm going to do to - echem, adjust the situation." She smiled devilishly and yanked Alytra along, the other two coated assistants following her, back down the hall and then into another, and then through a metal door. This wasn't going to feel good.

Alytra should have taken a left.

What seemed like many hours later, Alytra stumbled out of the office room that she had been dragged into by Dr. Remmington, Martinez, and Smith after her attempted escape. She felt dazed and delirious, her eyes shifted back and forth slowly and she tried to regain equilibrium, to no avail. They had definitely drugged her severely, she thought, because she felt totally out of it and it was next to impossible to walk straight. She swayed back and forth a bit as Remmington opened her mouth. "Now, Alytra, you know that here in my institute I like to run a tight ship, and it is my goal as the head supervisor to make certain that we avoid these kind of.... Confrontations, like the one that you caused earlier. I know that you must feel a bit loopy, but don't worry, it'll pass.. Eventually. And remember, dear, this is in your best interest. Now, go enjoy the rest of your evening, and don't try anything else. I hope you've learned your lesson." And with that, Remmington turned on her heel and stalked off down the hall towards her own personal office.

But Alytra was sure of one thing. She knew, that if it was up to Jason, she might "learn her lesson" much better later that night.. She shuddered at the thought. Meanwhile, Martinez was taking some notes down onto her clipboard, and Smith stood there awkwardly, and finally cleared his throat. "Umm... Well, I guess you're free to go now, Alytra... See you later." Martinez shot him an angry glance. Smith knew that he wasn't supposed to display any kind of compassion or friendliness towards the patients. The two of them turned simultaneously and moved in the same direction that Remmington had previously, to Hall A, where all of the offices were.

Alytra stood, alone, still completely faded and a bit traumatized as well. "Yeah, right..." Alytra muttered under her breath, "Free to go my ass." She began walking towards the lounge, as it was so poorly named, where all of the other patients, or rather, inmates, hung out during their free time. It was that or the bathrooms, and she didn't have to pee right now; at least, she didn't think so, but with how drugged up she was right now it was a possibility.

Upon reaching the lounge, Alytra drifted slowly over to the couch that was placed in front of one of the few windows in the entire facility, and slumped down, staring at the rays of light that filtered through the glass panes. Her eyes were locked onto the rays, and it was as if she were in a trance.

White.

All Ezra sees is white.

White walls, white floors, white uniforms. In that very moment, he couldn’t think of a colour he hated more. This… maddening plainness symbolised everything that was wrong with the place. It was difficult, if not impossible to distinguish where one wall ended, and where another began, giving the impression of an infinite, white abyss. Growing up, Ezra always thought white was the colour of purity, wholeness - everything Remmington’s was not, as anyone who took up residence here would realise. Things weren’t so bad though, some days, especially when the orderlies left him to his thoughts, and the voices in his head quieted down. But the more he dwelled on the matter, the more he realised what a thinly-veiled lie it was.

He hated this place.

Ezra could barely remember how long he’d been here. A week? A month? A year? It all sounded wrong to him, even as they swirled around in the recesses of his mind. The drugs they pumped him full of did everything except their intended purpose, memories slipping from him like sand through his fingers. Sometimes, Ezra was convinced that it was all just a ploy to keep him docile; placid. After all, how could he plot an escape route when he could barely walk down the corridors without tripping over his own feet? But those thoughts never stayed with him for long, his mind drifting away to other ideas before he could tighten his grasp.

Plodding aimlessly along, Ezra’s footsteps were muffled into silence by the linoleum floor. No one had come to bother him today, which was a first - though he couldn’t say he was very happy about it either. Ezra had been jonesing for a cigarette ever since this morning, how was he going to get one with nobody around? Of course, he knew better than anyone that smoking was strictly prohibited for patients, but who was going to enforce such a rule when you could simply take advantage of it? Nothing came without a price, though it was one he was willing to pay to stave off withdrawal.

Before he could bump into an orderly, however, Ezra noticed someone out of the corner of his eye. Those wilful shocks of purple hair drew a stirring of recognition out from within him, although he couldn’t quite put a name to the face just yet - all he knew was that it started with an ‘A’.

“What’d they do to you?”

The words spilt forth from his lips before he could stop them, and he began to approach the girl as if on a tether. Ezra’s movements were slow, unsure. It wasn’t often that he made conversation with the others in Remmington’s, preferring to keep to himself. So why was he starting now? The answer to that was question was unknown, even to him. But maybe, just maybe, this would be the first thing in this place to do him good.

Alytra looked up upon hearing approaching footsteps, and a male's voice asking her a question, her trance broken. At least she assumed that it was her he was addressing, because no one else was close enough to have heard what he said. She looked up and knew that she had seen his face around, if only a few times, but couldn't guess his name for the life of her. She did notice his pretty eyes and the way that he held himself exerted an air of confidence, despite the feelings of utter paranoia that he must have been experiencing, if his emotions mirrored hers at all.

What haven't they done to me? she thought to herself, letting out an irritated huff of breath. "You know," she stared at him bitterly, "I'm not quite sure that I really know what all they did to me. They stuck another fucking I.V. into me, and then pumped me full of unidentifiable liquids. I'm sure it's just some sort of antidepressant." She wasn't sure at all, but after her stunt earlier she wasn't wanting to cause any more trouble for Remmington and her staff, and she planned to avoid Jason at all costs for the remainder of the evening. "To be honest, I'm not even sure how long I was back there... Do you have any idea?" she inquired of the young man, dazedly. Even in a haze, Alytra had to admit that he was a rather fine looking boy, especially for Remmington's, albeit a bit pale and lifeless-looking.

Before the girl could answer, Ezra had already moved to sit down, draping himself over his side of the couch like a long-limbed octopus. Much to his amusement, however, he found it quite the fitting metaphor for his current predicament. His legs almost felt like jelly; like he’d collapse and slump into a heap of nothing if he tried to stand up again. There was no joy in the quiet huff of laughter that escaped him next, but… beggars couldn’t be choosers, he supposed. In a place like this, one had to be content with any scrap of levity they could find - even if the punchline happened to be at their own expense.

To the untrained eye, Ezra might’ve looked like he was off with the fairies, but he was paying full attention to his companion’s ramblings. That was the thing about Remmington’s, he never had any idea whether the other patients were just a figment of his imagination, or whether they were flesh and blood. Each of their individual experiences sounded so utterly relatable to Ezra that sometimes, he found himself convinced that the whole facility was simply a construct of his own overactive thalamus. He remembered the IV needle sliding under his skin, the drugs skittering across the surface of his brain, and he nodded in understanding. But when questioned by the girl on how long she’d been gone, Ezra found himself at a loss.

“...Beats me.” His thoroughly unsatisfying answer came only after a long moment of contemplation, syllables slurring and stretching with a peculiar effortfulness. “I’m as out of it as you are, stranger. What’s your name?”

As she replied, Alytra eyed him speculatively. He just sat there, right next to her, plopped his entitled little ass down as if he'd been invited. She hissed internally and glared at him ever so slightly, pulling her knees to her chest and making sure to leave as much space as possible in between her and her surprise guest of the evening. She was pleased, however, to have the chance for conversation with someone else who was fairly normal - or, at least, what she would consider MORE normal than the typical patient or staff member around Remmington's. Also, Alytra was both taken aback and pleased by the fact that the boy seemed to truly understand what she was experiencing. She noticed that he looked a little wobbly, as well.

"Name's Alytra," she muttered, disappointed by the fact that he could shed no more light on her current situation than had already been shed, "And... You are?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow. Relief washed over her that she wasn't the only one to be at a loss when it came to names here. Alytra was distracted briefly as she saw Jason pass by the Lounge out of the corner of her eye, and she could have sworn that she saw him smile one of those menacing smiles... She quickly focused her attention back on the newcomer once he had passed, however, and waited patiently for his reply.

Ezra might’ve been delusional, but he wasn’t stupid. He could see the subtle curling of the lip, the way her eyes narrowed as he made himself at home on the couch. It was clear - to him, at least - that he wasn’t all too welcomed here. Still, it took him every last ounce of willpower in his being to refrain from pointing out that The Lounge was a communal area. If the girl had truly desired to go down the path of the lone wolf, she’d be better off holing up inside a bathroom stall.

As this… ‘Alytra’ introduced herself, Ezra spent a few moments taking her in. She was pale, but not quite as much as he was, with a peppering of freckles all across her features. Of course, none of that were nearly as interesting as the purple hair - an oasis of colour in this wasteland. A compliment was right there on the tip of his tongue, though he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Not just yet, at least. He wasn’t about to get all buddy-buddy with some he’d just met. Especially not with someone who glared at him just for taking a seat.

“...Ezra. It’s Ezra.” The name sounded wrong between his teeth, and he rued the repetition. There was something dodgy about any assertion one felt obliged to make twice. But it had just been so long since anyone in this hellhole addressed him properly, his name beginning to make the strange transition into a dead language. Ezra was disquieted to realise that the staff had ceased to call him anything at all. He didn’t know when or how it happened, but one thing was for sure, this was all because of that bitch, Dr. Remmington. No doubt this was another one of her little mind-games, and that toady of hers, Jason, had to be in on it, too.

Speak of the devil… there he was. Ezra would notice that ugly mug anywhere. He’d heard rumours of what Jason did to the other patients, but that was about as deep as it went. Ezra himself hadn’t witnessed anything he did firsthand, though he’d certainly had his own run-ins with a separate kind of degenerate - the closeted kind with cigarettes to spare. For a moment, his mind nearly slips, nails digging into his palm to bring himself back to reality. No, no more getting lost in thought. There were other, more important things to deal with. Like the conversation he and Alytra were having, for example.

“So? What’re you in here for, then?”

When he spoke, Alytra could tell that this boy had definitely picked up on her signals and noticed the way in which she had reacted to his taking a seat near her. His face appeared to display that, although he wasn't too fond of her facial expressions, that he understood. Of course, that was probably a common theme for anyone here at Remmington's. Since all of the patients had their space invaded quite often and without their own consent, Alytra pretty much assumed that the others would feel the same way that she did about close encounters with strangers. Or, maybe it was just her, being "moody", slipping from an exciting "up" state into a dreary "down".... She mentally checked herself and attempted to control the ugly effects her disorder to the best of her abilities, along with the medicine that was flowing through her veins, if it was even the correct dosage/kind.

It seemed, for a mere moment, that he was going to share something else with her, but hesitation reared its head, and instead, there was a brief pause, and then Alytra finally learned his name. It was a lovely name, Alytra thought to herself, the kind that would slip off the tip of one's tongue, if not for the hesitation that he had shown, and the awkward repetition of his name afterwards. Was he nervous? Of what? Alytra could be kind of intimidating, but she wasn't that scary.... Was she? She thought that she saw his palm twitch a bit while she waited for him to say more, but it could have easily been just her mind running rampant, full of unidentified chemicals from the drugs.

"Um, my mom sent me here a while ago. I have anxiety and I'm mildly bi-polar." she confided in him, honestly, albeit a bit begrudgingly. She wasn't particularly proud of her disorders, and hoped that it wouldn't scare him off. Although a bit panicky around people, Alytra thought that she was literally going to die without someone to make conversation with. "Why are you here?" She pried, curious about what such a clean-cut looking guy could wind up here for.

Ezra’s eyes narrowed. Anxiety? Bipolar Disorder? Those weren’t exactly things that got you committed to a mental institution, much less one like Remmington’s. For a fleeting moment, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of commiseration well up inside him. How long had she been here? Needless to say, Ezra had his own woes to wrangle, but there weren’t many things in the world that made him feel this way. The abuse of power was something he’d always been wary of, and they had the audacity to call him crazy because of it. No one deserved to be in a place like this, no matter how incorruptible and virtuous they set themselves up to be. He knew better.

“Psychosis and BPD.” Ezra stated, quite bluntly, voice monotonous with disinterest. His face was a mask of detachment, but if one looked closely, they’d see a flicker of uncertainty. Up until this very day, he still wasn’t sure whether or not his suspicions were completely unfounded. Hushed voices and lowered gazes, those were the things that greeted him whenever he walked into a room at home. But he supposed that wasn’t the only factor that led to his confinement; more like the straw that broke the camel’s back, really. He still remembered how he stuck his head into the oven hours before they dragged him here - and he was so close to blacking out, too. The memory brought a wry, feeble smile to his lips, as he continued. “I tried to kill my family, and I guess they were tired of me trying to kill myself all the time.”

Ezra would be lying if he said this revelation wasn’t cathartic, and there was a sick sort of excitement as to how the girl would react mixed in there, as well. The therapists in here were useless - all they did was smile, nod, maybe scribble down some bullshit on a clipboard if they were feeling particularly productive that day. It was like talking to a brick wall, or rather, confiding in a goldfish. The therapists seemed to forget about everything he’d said by the time the next session rolled around. After a few months of this repetition, it was much easier for Ezra to simply clam up, and wait for the forty-five minutes to be over. With Alytra, though - or any other patient in Remmington’s, for that matter - it was different. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, even if they’d never actually spoken to each other up until now.

“They tried to keep it hush-hush, but you might’ve seen it in the tabloids, once or twice.” He vaguely recalled a headline splashed across the cover of OK! Magazine, and it would’ve almost been amusing, if not for its tastelessness. “I think it was something like: ‘The Pinkertons: Richer Than God, But They Can’t Hide The Crazy!’. You know, that might actually be my personal favourite.”

Alytra could see Ezra eyeing her up, taking in her response, but the look on his face puzzled her. What was that? Anger? Confusion? Disbelief? She hadn't the slightest clue as to what he was thinking while she gave him her answer. She studied his face for a moment more as she considered talking, but decided that she would let it slide, not wanting to push too hard, as she would usually be so inclined to do, because he was a complete stranger, and although she didn't believe in the need for any barriers when it came to unveiling the truth, she figured that she would wait a little longer before becoming demanding and self-righteous... If she could manage.

Her eyes widened as he seemingly proudly proclaimed that he had attempted to murder his own family. "Well, Ezra, that is a rather intriguing tale. I, too, have wanted members of my own family to drop dead. The self-mutilation bit, however, I will never understand. It's not really my style." She was blunt and couldn't help it, but she still hoped that her response wasn't too curt to the point of actually hurting her new-found acquaintance's feelings; on the other hand, here it was almost impolite to go beyond surface level. No one ever did.

"So," she continued, somewhat intrigued, "You're a rich boy, eh? You must be realllllly rich, or famous or smart or something to get your name and story headlined like that, and the way that they put your family's last name out there makes it sound like most of the free world knows who you are. And no offense, I do not. And I certainly haven't "seen it in the tabloids".... I've been in here for about eight months." This last bit hit Alytra closer to home than she had imagined it would, and she tried not to let her face falter. She would keep her cool for as long as she could, at least in her current company.

“Don't touch me!” Arrow snarled, his voice shaky. He pulled his arm back from the nurse, his blue eyes wild and scared. She said nothing, and just held her hand out, motioning for him to give her back his arm so she could inject him with his medication. He hated the stuff; it made his eyes heavy and his thoughts fuzzy. Of course, that's probably what it was intended to do, in order to keep him and everyone else out of trouble.

He had been at Remmington's for only two and a half weeks, and his dislike for the place was growing stronger. For the most part, they kept him either drugged or locked up in some room for 'observation'. He hardly saw anyone, with the exception of this goddamned nurse and her needle. He didn't even have clothes that fit properly yet. He currently had one of the facility's white tee-shirts that was so big it came down to his knees.

The woman sighed after a few more moments. She stood up and moved towards him. Arrow backed up like a cornered animal, his eyes darting around looking for an escape. Of course, there wasn't one. There never was. She reached out and seized his wrist with an iron grip. He yelped and struggled against her, pushing her away with his free arm. He collided with the wall behind him, and the nurse leaned into him to hold him still as she fumbled with the needle.

He screamed as he felt the prick on his arm. He twisted his head around and bit down hard on the nurse's arm, clamping down until he could taste the metallic flavor of blood. The nurse stumbled back and called for help.

Another doctor-looking guy opened the door. Arrow quickly saw his opportunity. He charged the guy at the door. He must have looked kind of scary, with the crazy blue eyes and blood at the corners of his mouth, because the man simply stepped back and held his arms up in front of his face protectively.

Arrow had no plan, and the drugs were quickly coming into effect, but he ran down the hall like his life depended on it. His bare feet slapped the white tile floor, and his heavy breathing echoed off the walls. It was awful, everything was white. He turned down a hallway that looked exactly like the last. His footsteps became unsteady as the drugs pumped through his veins, and eventually he tripped. He choked down a sob as he struggled to get back up, his vision spinning. He was able to stumble around the next corner before he had to stop, leaning against one of those horrible white walls for support. He slumped to the floor, feeling defeated, and listened for the sound of footsteps, which he was sure would come in just a few moments.

Jason maneuvered stealthily through the halls, peering around corners and keeping a constant look-out for any fellow patient who could potentially be considered "misbehaving", or breaking any sort of Remmington rule. He had just prevented that young, wild bitch, Alytra from escaping the facility a mere hours earlier, and Dr. Remmington had been impressed, which was the only feeling that Jason wanted her to have towards him. It was a good thing to be on Remmington's (or any of the doctor's/researcher's') good side, no matter the cost, he firmly believed. Despite her cold-hearted attitude and her lack of respect for anyone's personal space, Maria Remmington was the closest thing that he had to kin here, since he had been forced to make the transition from adolescent to adult within these bright, white walls. If Jason felt any loyalty towards anyone in the world it was to Dr. Remmington.

He took a turn and strode down the next hallway, reflecting on the day's earlier events involving Alytra. Ahhh, what I'm going to do to her... She will learn one way or another that her freedom is a privilege and not a right, and that she has to earn respect. It isn't going to be given to her just because she's an entitled little cu- Jason's thoughts were cut off, as he heard what sounded like a female shrieking somewhere a few halls over. Likely, someone had probably fought their treatment or taken off running from the doctors, or better yet, attacked one of them. This occurred frequently here, and after seven years of residing here it was second-nature to Jason.

Just then, a short distance away from Jason appeared a young male, thin and rabid-looking, with blood dripping from his lips. He looked new, Jason couldn't recall having seen him around here before. And Jason knew everybody here. "Hey, you!" He hollered, as he headed in his direction. Looking around, he could see that no one had pursued the boy. He must have bit hard. "You, who are you?" Jason demanded, upon nearing the boy. "And why does it look like you've been getting frisky with a woman who's on her period?" Jason cocked his eyebrow and smiled devilishly as he made his remark, hoping to disturb the boy - although, he already seemed rather disturbed, like most people here were.

”Hey, you!

There it was. He didn't even have a chance to catch his breath yet. Arrow jumped when the thundering voice broke the silence in the hallway. He struggled to stand back up, using the wall for support. He could immediately tell the approaching man wasn't a member of the staff – he wore the same simple white uniform as Arrow had. However, his presence felt strong and menacing, making Arrow wary as the stranger approached. He struggled to remain calm, though he was already looking for his next route of escape should the situation take a turn for the worse.

He wiped at his mouth in disgust after the man's crude comment. His was spinning from the drugs he was injected with less then five minutes ago, and his vision was further impaired by the tears that had welled up in his eyes. He stubbornly fought them back, blinking hard a few times. “That's disgusting.” He spat. He felt more uncomfortable as the man came closer. He definitely could beat the snot out of the poor kid if he wanted to. “Besides, who the hell are you?”

He made an attempt to sound confident, but it probably was not very effective considering his current state. If fact, he would probably just make things worse by mouthing off.

Well, this was new. Whenever Ezra brought up the subject of his family name, there was usually a spark of recognition; a turning of gears as they came to realise just who he was. The Pinkertons were often said to be up there with the Waltons and the Kochs, having dominated the US shipping industry since the early 20s, and to put it gently - you had to be living under a rock to not have heard of them. Today, however, it seemed as if he had finally encountered an exception to the rule. Whether or not he was pleased by the peculiar turn of events, Ezra couldn’t tell, but it was certainly a refreshing deviation from the norm.

“Was rich, and none taken. They’re all a bunch of douchebags, anyway.” Ezra wasn’t so petty as to take an offhanded comment like that to heart. Growing up, he’d always been taught to have thick skin, and to take things with a grain of salt. Sticks and stones, right? Not like it was much help to him when he was in one of his “moods”, but right now, for lack of a better term, he was too out of it to get into it. The drugs they gave him in Remmington’s were good for one thing, he supposed - keeping those nasty, raging emotions at bay. “Eight months, huh? I’ve been here a little longer. …I think.”

And then, there was the downside. With the chemical cocktail of pills and injections given to him, Ezra could barely remember what he had for breakfast, let alone how much time he’d spent at Remmington’s. But if he had to decide on a certain timeframe, it’d be somewhere close to a year, give or take. Though with his addled mind, he couldn’t be sure. Those trips to the ‘shock shop’ in the beginning of January must’ve taken more out of him than he’d thought.

Tentatively, Ezra’s gaze flickered upwards, towards the spiky, purple mess sitting atop Alytra’s head. As he spoke, his fingers finally found purchase, tearing away the flaking piece of skin from his lip. “They let you keep your hair like that?”

"Uh, excuse me?" Jason asked, all humor gone from his face. This young fool obviously had no clue who he was, nor any respect for authority. The boy appeared to be shaking, clearly immensely upset from whatever had happened moments before, and it almost evoked some hint of emotion from his cold heart. Almost. But Jason knew better than to start feeling bad for a newbie who was breaking the rules. And he could benefit quite a bit from taking the side of the staff on almost any matter, he realized, if he played his cards right. Jason practically snarled. "Who says it's disgusting? I love the taste of metal in my mouth." It would have been a comical statement if not for the absolute menace that shone through his bright eyes. He looked downright terrifying. Taking a step closer, he gestured towards the boy, still sitting on the hard ground against the painstakingly white wall behind him. The vein in his forehead bulged and throbbed, and he leaned over the boy, attempting to intimidate him. "I'll think about answering your questions after you answer mine. Now, I asked you once, and I will not ask again," Jason continued, "Who. the. fuck. are. you." The words came out hard and flat, with a bit of rage seeping into each one. He was not in the mood to be screwed with.

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Alytra was rather taken aback. As much hate as she harbored for her good for nothing father, and as much of a bitch her mother could be, she would never refer to them openly as "a bunch of douchebags". The term just sounded.... dirty? Perverted? Wrong, whatever it was. She was also even more astounded by the claim that Ezra made next. "More than eight months? A whole year? No offense, but that seems impossible... I know everyone who has been in and out of here since I arrived, I swear it... Or, at least, I could have sworn... Longer than me? I didn't think that anyone besides... Jason... Had been here for longer than I have... That can't be right, can it...?" She couldn't stop searching, attempting to find a rational answer to what she had just been told, but she couldn't. Maybe, she began to fear, those drugs had done a lot more to affect her mental and biological health than she had originally thought...

"Well, anyway," Alytra moved the conversation along, trying her best to shrug it off, "What do you mean? This?" She pulled at her own lovely purple and black locks, affectionately. "Like that as in short, or like that as in dyed? Either way, obviously, yes, they do "let me"... It's amazing what you can get away with around here, if you have the right connections... Speaking of which," Alytra began to recall a time where she had seen Ezra, not knowing who he was at that point in time, in possession of a cigarette. "Haven't you been getting some nicotine into your system, somehow?" She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head slightly to the side. Perhaps, she wasn't the only one using her looks to receive something beneficiary that wouldn't be provided by Dr. Remmington or the more nefariously diligent staff members.

Ezra could empathise, he knew exactly how Alytra felt. At Remmington’s, without a calendar to keep track, days melted into weeks, and months into days. The place never seemed to change, either. Same walls, same people, same drugs, same everything. Each passing second felt like a bloated eternity, and some days, Ezra was sure the monotony would drive him mad. Well - madder, if you want to be picky about it.

“Eight months, a year. What’s the difference?” Sharp stabs of fatigue lent his voice a gravelly creakiness, and it was almost as if he had to heave the words from his jaw with a shovel. Still, he made a token effort of straightening his posture, draping an arm across the back of the couch. “Feels like a goddamned lifetime, either way.”

As the girl continued, Ezra couldn’t quash the feeling of dread welling up in his stomach. He knew where this was going, and when Alytra finally popped the question, he was hardly shocked. Not many patients earned the supposed ’privilege’ of cigarettes - the fact that his carcinogenic hobby hadn’t been brought up in conversation earlier was an achievement in and itself. But that didn’t stop his phlegmatic, drugged-up mask from slipping. Venom. In a single, ephemeral second, however, it faded, almost as quickly as it’d surfaced. Even with his eyes at half-mast, one could still see the pupils, as dark and sticky as a tar pit.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Ezra’s voice was oddly clipped, and it was clear, despite the apparent insouciance, that Alytra had hit a nerve with her question. Rationalising - as he had tried many times before - would be of no use, he realised. No amount of excuses, big or small, would justify his actions. He knew that after he’d accepted that very first cigarette, there was no going back, and he’d be a fool to dig himself a deeper hole than he’d already done. Though he did find some solace in the fact that he wasn’t alone in such an arrangement. “The ‘right connections’… That’s funny.”

'Well, shit.' Arrow mentally scolded himself. It was now completely clear that this man wasn't someone he could smart mouth and still get out of the situation unharmed. As the man leaned over him, Arrow instinctively shrank backwards. As if the motion were rehearsed, he pulled his knees to his chest and crossed his arms over his head protectively. Shadowy figures danced on the edge of vision, though he knew as soon as he turned to look they would disappear. Soft, menacing voices mumbled incoherently, mocking his pathetic display. None of it was real; the added stress was making his hallucinations surface, even through the heavy dose of drugs he had been given.

His heart rate rapidly increased, until he could feel his pulse pounding in his ears. He kept his face covered still as tears sprung up in his eyes and spilled down his face. The voices were right, of course; he was pathetic. “A-Arrow.” He answered the man, swallowing hard. “Arrow West.”

He allowed the tears to fall into his lap, not daring to move and wipe them away. The voices sneered at him. Figures laughed out the corner of his eye. Arrow squeezed his eyes shut. “Please don't hit me.”

Shockingly, this whole conversation just felt so amazing to Alytra. The two of them were talking and listening and prying and sharing, and certain parts of the conversation were even downright aggressive and provocative... And it felt more right to her than anything had in weeks, maybe even months. This boy, Ezra, this was someone who actually understood her, how she thought and felt about Remmington and such. He even seemed onboard with the idea of sneaking around to gain advantages over the other patients and staff members, she assumed, after hearing his response.

His reaction when she asked about the cigarettes was one that took her aback a bit, but not much. Alytra was so used to just being honest and bluntly saying what was on her mind, that when Ezra hesitated and told her basically to back off, it only confused her, as well as intriguing her more. "I would, actually," Alytra quipped, defiantly, "I would just [i]love[i] to know how you got them." She made a sort of "hmph" noise, and smiled at him arrogantly. She wasn't too intimidated by him to not press the matter further; his resistance only caused her to grow more curious about the matter... "And yes, being acquainted with the right kind of people here can indeed make all the difference.. That is, as right as any of them could possibly be. I think that everyone's a little wrong in this world, but that's just my cynical side taking over." She winked at Ezra and folded her arms. She wasn't about to back down from her questions quite so easily. Not yet. "Sadly, though, it is almost lights out.. Should we be going to bed, or...?" Alytra asked him, beginning to look around anxiously and breathe irregularly, waiting on Ezra's answer and trying not to totally lose her shit as night time neared.

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When the young boy shrunk back from him further and covered his head with his hands, Jason did actually feel truly sorry for him. He could only allow himself to feel this way, though, because he knew that the boy could not see him, and therefore would not foolishly expect sympathy or comfort. Jason was not currently in the correct place or mindset to be able to offer either of those things. He watched on as the boy seemed to be struggling with himself internally, fighting some battle that no one could truly ever see. Finally, the boy looked up nervously and answered him.

"Arrow, eh?" Jason raised an eyebrow in suspicion. It was a strange name, he thought, albeit interesting and unique. Watching the tears fall from Arrow's face didn't have a huge effect on Jason's emotional state, if that state even existed, because he had trained himself not to let himself feel for or really care about anyone but himself. But it didn't make him happy to watch it. And when Arrow begged him not to hit him, it struck a nerve. Jason sighed, and leaned towards the boy, hesitantly but also decidedly, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Look, kid.. I'm not going to hit you, here, ever. Ok? Just watch yourself. Mind the staff. Don't cause any beef with them and you won't have any beef with me." He stood back up, tall again, and surveyed the halls, making sure that no one had witnessed this display. "Now, here, you're going to get up now and I'd suggest that you go to your room, it's almost lights out and you're obviously exhausted." Jason reached out his arm and let it dangle there, in mid-air, waiting for Arrow to except the highest form of friendship that Jason had offered anyone in years.

Arrow flinched slightly when he felt a hand on his shoulder. However, the gesture wasn't at all hostile, and Arrow didn't feel threatened by it. It struck him that that was the first time someone from that awful place had touched him without the intent to prick him with a needle or something else along those lines. He looked back up, a slightly puzzled expression on his tear-streaked face. The man still had a stony expression, but the fire seemed to have settled down a little in those icy-blue eyes. Arrow took a brief moment to admire this person, who, in a place that stripped them of their human rights and treated them instead like some science experiment, could still carry himself with such confidence. Meanwhile, Arrow sat on the floor sniveling like a baby.

”He'll hurt you.” It was barely audible through the hodgepodge of mumbling inside his head, but one single voice broke through and hissed the threat. It sounded far more real then the others and sent a chill down the boy's spine. His eyes darted around quickly, checking that he and the man were still alone in the hallway.

When the man offered his hand, Arrow took a few seconds to process the meaning of the gesture. He hesitated, wiping his face in his elbow. The voices argued in his head as he reached out and took the man's hand, debating whether or not it was a good idea.

His eyes narrowed, just minutely, but there was no mistaking it - Ezra wasn't pleased. Even without saying a single word, the irritation he felt was tangible, hanging thick and heavy in the air. If there was anything in the world he hated more than this place, it would be people probing into his own, personal business. Especially business of this particular nature. What happened between him and this mysterious ‘benefactor’ of his... Ezra would never admit it, though a small part of him wondered how fast daddy dearest would blow a gasket, if he ever did find out.

“Then I'm sorry to disappoint.” Ezra smirked, and there was a kind of liturgical finality to his words, booming and solemn like the 'Amen' at the end of a benedictory prayer. His mind was already made up, and his lips sealed. There was no way he was going to discuss the matter with anyone. Ever. Confiding in a so-called 'kindred spirit' was already proving more trouble than it was worth. Perhaps he would've been better off keeping to himself, after all.

As Alytra mentioned lights-out, however, a wave of nausea swept over him. Ezra had barely noticed the sky getting dark outside, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to tether himself to reality. It couldn't be the end of the day already, could it? With each passing day, time seemed to grow increasingly elusive, like dust through his fingers. And yet, even after doing nothing but laze around the entire day, Ezra found himself exhausted - though it wasn't something sleep could fix. It was a tiredness that seeped into your very bones, that telltale ache taking root in your muscles like a chronic illness. Without the tar from a cigarette coating the insides of his lungs, he felt even worse than usual, and -

“Ezra.”

...Shit.

“It's almost lights out. What are you still doing out here?”

Ezra turned, with such an in-his-own-good-time deadpan, that it was impossible to tell whether he'd heard anything. Clinging onto the childish conclusion that if he didn't look, they would go away, he studiously avoided the newcomer's gaze. But for just a split second, his resolve faltered, and he dared a furtive glance at the source of the voice.

Standing a few yards away, was a man. He was about six feet tall, in his thirties, with a crisp, white lab coat draped over his shoulders. Truth be told, there was nothing particularly remarkable about the scientist. He was tall, but not freakishly so, and the weight he carried seemed to balance things out somewhat. Built like a linebacker, he was the last person anyone wanted to get into a scuffle with. And yet, he never really got to exercise his authority, instead spending the greater part of his time running errands for Dr. Remmington. But still, there was something about his stare, something in those dull, amber hues of his that made Ezra uncomfortable.

“What can I do for you, doc?” Ezra finally spoke up, after a long moment, false courage belying his apprehension.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you could actually follow the rules, for once.“ the man replied, almost conversationally, but Ezra could tell there was something else beneath it all, something dark, when his gaze flickered towards Alytra. Jealousy, maybe? Possessiveness sounded better still. “And, you haven’t taken your night meds yet.”

“Isn’t that the nurses’ job?” As the tiny, plastic cup in his hand rattles with mood stabilisers and antipsychotics, the sound makes Ezra grimace. “I’m not taking them.”

“I gave you that extra cigarette. The least you can do for me is take your pills, you know what happens when you don’t.”

That’s when the barrier of intrepidity around Ezra falls, crumbling, faltering, until there was nothing left of it. “Fine.” Finally, he submits, words escaping in a muted hiss. He is slow to stand, but his movements are deliberate, crossing the remaining distance to where the scientist stood.

Before anything else conspired, however, Gregg pulls Ezra aside, shooting a pointed look at Alytra. “Back to your room. Now.”