[Of course Prior's free to do as he pleases. There is such a thing as against medical advice and this wouldn't be the first time he's checked himself out in the name of it. Months of not being listened to by the medical profession (by the state, by the senate, months of being a second class citizen fed drugs they know don't work and denied the ones that do) has harbored a certain mistrust of the medical fraternity, despite the number of hospital workers he calls friends.

It's not much of an improvement here, with something masquerading as a hospital that shuts its doors when things outside get bloody, that plays host to people who use the very building itself to bend first do no harm until it breaks. Prior is damned if he's going back to bed, here or anywhere else, thank you.

So it may be a request, but Prior takes it like it's an insult, drawing himself up as far as a battered body will let him. His hand on the cane splays out, a small plea to just stop.]

I have spent a week being fed medicines, being injected, given leeches that burrowed under my skin and I am not - I am not going back to a little white room and letting people medicate me. Maybe it's not permanent, maybe I'll take my pills again, but I do not want to let people fuck with my head, for now, or my body, for now. I am going, and I guess if I collapse out there someone will probably call you but I am not-

[He shakes his head, a small, sharp jerk.]

I am not.