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"Shoot him?" Sabin asked, ignorant of the history behind such a comment. "That would probably take it a bit far knowing Aubrey. I do not think that despite everything, she could ever wish him harm." He shook his head. "She is a confused one, that Dr. Lockheart. And unfortunately has the tendency to ignore things that do not fit in with her worldview. I think that the way she sees Moreau is very different than reality. And perhaps the other way around as well." He gave a dismissing shrug.

Wandering over to the various tubes and bags suspended behind him he checked their levels. "You should be back on solid food tomorrow... perhaps the next day. The notes say that they will see how you take it. Things go well, you could be out of here in 4 or 5 days."

"Everyone has agendas. Just not everyone realizes it." He replied simply.

"And sorry. Can't. Your system is being cleaned, adding morphine would just ... screw up the chemistry or something like that." He gesticulated vaguely at the saline drip. This obviously wasn't his field.

"That's what they're trying to fix. At least the drug portion."

He strode back to the door. "Try to sleep. They could probably fetch you a magazine or two if you absolutely can't, but I reccomend sleep. If your vitals look good in a few days then we're out of eachothers hair so long as you don't do something stupid again."

"Well, I don't care what the problem is, suicide is not the answer. Nor will it be one available to you here." Despite the wording, the last tone was devoid of sympathy as Sabin glanced back with a stern look. Billy was his responsibility - like it or not.

That having been said, Sabin let himself out, the heavy metal door making a resounding clunk-ing sound after its close as the locks slid back into place.

Marlena did not so much as look up up from the various test-tubes she was sorting into a centrifuge at Aubrey's address. She continued her careful placements as she intoned, "Of course, Doctor Lockheart. What can I help you with?" Numbers were jotted down on a chart after each tube was placed, the notations careful and meticulous.

Marlena gestured to a set of charts hanging on pegs on the wall. "They're documented in the charts, Doctor Lockheart. Mostly placebos with alpha-beta blockers to lower blood pressure, reducing the likelihood of uncontrolled violent outbursts, and aiding in more restful sleep. They may also have the interesting side effects of reducing pain during transformations by reducing strain on the heart and blood vessels, and causing occasional intense dreams, which can do much to tell us of the mental state of our patients."

Marlena looked up from her work at that and her gaze was stern. "Hardly, Dr. Lockheart. This institution's complete negligence in continuing Miss MacNeal's Zoloft perscription is at fault for her hospitalization. I assumed as you had not continued medicating her for her disorder, I shouldn't do so as you _must_ have had a good reason for it, hm?" She turned on the centrifuge with a flick of a finger. "I am a biochemist, Doctor Lockheart. Just what am I to do here if it isn't test their reactions to chemical stimuli?"

Marlena scowled. "As you wish. How precisely do you wish me to...counsel these subjects, Doctor Lockheart? Please do tell me so I don't overstep my bounds..."