passing thought about benson having a peaceful life working in an old folks home as an aid of sorts. he does maintenance as well but he keeps the folks company, all the older women love him and his southern charm . the men like him well enough because he'll joke with them, calls them all sir, sneaks them smokes sometimes bc if he was in their position why tf would he stop smoking, ur on ur way out anyways. its a job, and a better of the few hes had. he comes in one morning to be told their getting a new resident, an Elliot Sheppard. his wife passed a few years back, kids moved out of town and as far as they can tell, have no interest in coming back to help him. Bensons gritting his teeth so hard he can taste copper, swaying on his feet as he fiddles w a button on his uniform. He checks out while the intake information is being given to him, what room he'll be staying in, the medications he'll be on, check in times.
if he starts missing doses of his heart medication, and accidentally begins taking some of miss callaways arthritis medication its an honest mistake. if he forgets to check his room during rounds and leaves him to lay in his piss and shit for a few hours bc he cant get out of bed anymore - its an unfortunate error. if the elderly man who smokes out back of the kitchen with him somedays, who told benson he used to be a religious man. who used to work in the parish early sunday mornings as an alter boy. who has the same shake in his hands and distance in his stare, tells him of a man he knew who was killed w a syringe full of air. practically untraceable, reads just like a heartattack - hes just making conversation.
