Presley Kent Monroe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
moneyfornothing) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dreamlikenewyork2015-07-25 09:30 pm
moneyfornothing) wrote in dreamlikenewyork2015-07-25 09:30 pm
"Love is a battlefield."
Who: Presley Monroe and Cole Carrington
What: Surrogate caretaker
Where: Addiction Unit, Mount Sinai
When: Saturday morning
Presley stood there quietly with his arms crossed loosely over his chest as the nurse who had been pushing Cole in a wheelchair to this tiny little courtyard with glass walls all around it. She set the brakes on the chair and then went back over to the door they came through, and headed back inside to the unit. When she did, the door was closed behind her and secured with a lock that could only be opened with a staff swipe card that neither Presley nor Cole had in their possession not being employees.
Presley knew this routine all-too-well, having lived it many times with his mother. Not in the addiction unit, but in the mental health facilities. They had these little areas patients could be 'outside' to break the monotony, but it was really just a highly secure fish bowl with no roof. There was no way to top yourself here, or escape to top yourself somewhere else. There were some plants and some benches, and there was an easily accessible panic button in case anything went wrong and they needed urgent assistance.
Cole was in a bathrobe, in the midst of some pretty severe DTs, it looked like. He looked like death warmed up, and the nurse had tucked a hospital blanket in over his legs so he wouldn't get chilled, even if it was a gorgeous summer day outside. Once they were alone, Presley sat down on one of the benches near Cole and cleared his throat. "We don't have to talk. Emilio just hoped I might come see how you were today, seeing as he can't. May as well kill two birds with one stone and get you soe fresh air."
What: Surrogate caretaker
Where: Addiction Unit, Mount Sinai
When: Saturday morning
Presley stood there quietly with his arms crossed loosely over his chest as the nurse who had been pushing Cole in a wheelchair to this tiny little courtyard with glass walls all around it. She set the brakes on the chair and then went back over to the door they came through, and headed back inside to the unit. When she did, the door was closed behind her and secured with a lock that could only be opened with a staff swipe card that neither Presley nor Cole had in their possession not being employees.
Presley knew this routine all-too-well, having lived it many times with his mother. Not in the addiction unit, but in the mental health facilities. They had these little areas patients could be 'outside' to break the monotony, but it was really just a highly secure fish bowl with no roof. There was no way to top yourself here, or escape to top yourself somewhere else. There were some plants and some benches, and there was an easily accessible panic button in case anything went wrong and they needed urgent assistance.
Cole was in a bathrobe, in the midst of some pretty severe DTs, it looked like. He looked like death warmed up, and the nurse had tucked a hospital blanket in over his legs so he wouldn't get chilled, even if it was a gorgeous summer day outside. Once they were alone, Presley sat down on one of the benches near Cole and cleared his throat. "We don't have to talk. Emilio just hoped I might come see how you were today, seeing as he can't. May as well kill two birds with one stone and get you soe fresh air."