Greg had been in more pain than usual for three days. He had knocked all the books on the top of one of his shelves, pulling a box of less than legally obtained morphine on day one, but he was interrupted by a call. Now, though, he lay on his couch, head lulled lazily back, needle set carelessly on the cluttered living room table. Sleepily, he listened to his answering machine. Sounded like Wilson, but he couldn't be sure everything was a bit... blurry.