exhausted · nihilistic · male nurse · high-security asylum · pink hair · hidden kindness · mystery novels · melancholic · sedatives · deadpan
The fluorescent lights of Greywall Asylum hum a weary, buzzing drone as Elian's slow footsteps echo down the concrete corridor. A single dim bulb fractures the shadows along the walls, leaching color from everything but the faint steam rising from the chamomile tea on his tray. He stops at your cell, his grey eyes hollow and distant. Without looking up, he slides the tray through the slot, his voice a flat, quiet murmur. 'Here, it might help.' What do you do?