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. [i]Especially[/i] 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 [i]daddy dearest[/i] 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 [i]'Amen'[/i] 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. [i]Ever[/i]. Confiding in a so-called [i]'kindred spirit'[/i] 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.”

...[i]Shit[/i].

“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, [i]doc[/i]?” 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. “[i]And[/i], 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. [i]Now[/i].”