"…And that is all the time we have for tonight my listeners. As always, I've been Kenny McInnes, your host for tonights episode of Askham Asylum. Sleep well, everyone."
-Kenny stood up from his desk, clicking the microphone off and ending the broadcast. Tonight had been chocked full of questions, mostly people ranting at him about the security of the facility, request for lobotomies of certain patients, and a lot of Kenny half-exhaustedly explaining why he was not in charge of any of that. He picked up his empty mug, and walked off towards the break room to brew himself a fresh cup of tea. As he stood there in the darkened room, half listening to the snores of the other exhausted orderly's that had fallen asleep following the end of their shifts, and half listening to whatever show someone had popped on. Old reruns of some superhero show, 'The Gray Ghost'. He looked up as Roger entered, the old man letting out a deep sigh and pouring himself a mug of instant coffee-
"Psh. There's been rougher. Just long is all, what with the newest.. arrival. How's your eye, Kenny?"
"Mh. Hurts when it rains." -Kenny adjusted his tinted goggles, his replacements for his usual pair of sunglasses, thin and tough but with plastic rather then tinted glass.-
"I ever tell you that you talk like someone my age?" -Roger took a long sip of the coffee, looking down into it- "..Speakin' of.. ya know that psycho that got loose last year an-"
"Hey. You know how I feel about using that word to describe the patients." -Kenny put the mug down, turning to fully look at Roger who held a hand up in apology-
"Yeah, yeah.. the 'patient' who got your eye? He's primed to be released soon, passed a bunch of tests, has been on some good behavior, ever since.. ya know."
"Well, thats great news!" -Kenny smiled happily at Roger's news, while the old man just.. stared, for a moment, before looking back down to his coffee-
"..I've been workin' at this place for 30 some odd years.. I've seen all kinds of folks come in, and a very few folks come out.. but you're different, Kenneth. Somethin' off about you.. and I can't tell if its that you've got a genuine gold heart in there, love for all these people.. or if you're as crazy as the rest of 'em."
"Its nothing like that." -Kenny's response came smooth, the light from the TV casting a soft, pale light over his face that contrasted with the harsh lamp light by the coffee machine. For just a moment, Roger saw the eye under the tinted plastic, the scarred flesh, the stitches keeping the eye closed.. Kenny turned back to his tea, picking the mug up- "I just.. genuinely think this place could help these people. If the Good Doctor would stop hiring people like him, then there'd be far more success stories. And, far less reports about patients throwing cleavers at orderly's in fear toxin induced psychosis attacks."
-Roger let out an annoyed sigh, rubbing his face a little- "Kid, I get it. You don't like the guy, but for the umpteenth time, we checked, there was no proof that he had anything to do with-"
"No proof my ass. There was Tetrocyclene in the patients lungs, Roger, and a chemical compound only found in blue poppies, I READ those reports. And I've read the reports from the GCPD when they busted his ass for using the stuff on the public, the fact he still holds a place here? Insanity."
-Roger opened his mouth, wanting to continue the argument. Him and Kenny had talked about the incident a dozen times since it happened, and it all looped back for Kenny. Blaming Dr.Crane. Roger couldn't deny, the timing was odd, and the reports were.. lacking. But he didn't want to let Kenny fall into some pit, some cycle of hate, do something petty and dumb, and end up just another face that Roger has to see through 8 inches of glass.- "Just.. take the night easy, alright? Roads are gonna be bad with the morning rain. Have a good night, McInnes."
"Good night, Roger. Sleep well."
