Room 203, Tuesday Evening

Stark had managed to get himself out of his room on Sunday night for clinic duty. That had gone relatively well, aside from the manic cleaning. And at least cleaning things in the clinic was productive, unlike sitting in his room.

Unfortunately, a lack of productivity was not motivating Stark to leave his room again. He was really going to have to work on that, since he knew on some level that being alone in the room wasn't helping anything. So he would work on getting out of here. Eventually. Just as soon as he was done doing whatever it was he was doing. What he was doing seemed mostly to involve muttering to himself, but at least the pacing had stopped. That was progress. Probably.



[It is hot and I am bored. Open, if you like.]