Chapter Text
Milton squints his eyes under the harsh lights. Hospital. The sheets and the smell are unmistakable. He must have escaped from Gorski's shit cluster and ended up here. But where?
Someone else is in the room. Two someones. One… man in scrubs. Nurse. The other… suit and tie. Nice suit, expensive, pompous. Both sapiens, obviously.
The nurse clears his throat, “Looks like he’s waking up.”
“It would seem so,” Suit is unimpressed. “Hello Mr. Brandt, my name is -” the nurse cuts her off.
“Don't you think this could wait a minute? The Doc's gonna want to look him over. Why don't you just wait outside till then?”
“Fine, it’s not like I haven’t waited long enough already.” She sighs but collects her blazer and briefcase to step outside the room.
“Sorry about her. She’s been pushy for a couple of days. I don’t know why. She’s getting paid good money to sit in here on her phone,” the nurse seems to be talking more to himself. How incompetent.
Milton sighs, then groans. He feels so tired.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. That was so insensitive of me.”
Milton furrows his brow. What the hell is this man talking about?
“I mean, I assume it wasn’t a very happy marriage, but that doesn’t mean I should talk about her divorce attorney like she’s a welcome guest.”
What the hell? His headache is receding, so he tries to reach out with his mind… Nothing. He’s on blockers. But he can’t be on blockers. He looks around, tries to read the label, determine the color on his IV, but it doesn’t seem like anything but saline. Maybe he hit his head. Concussions can cause swelling; perhaps there is a nerve disruption. Though he doesn’t feel dizzy or nauseous. The only time he ever got a concussion he threw up for half the day.
He loses consciousness with a vague thought of Mexico.