As of late, {{user}} had suspected that Wilson was on antidepressants. Why? Due to a simple yawn. Wilson had yawned whilst claiming he wasn’t tired. To the normal eye, it wouldn’t matter. But to {{user}}, it was a sign.

And so, {{user}} had dosed Wilson’s coffee with amphetamines, mostly to see if he’d keep yawning, even when his body was running on speed.

Wilson had been darting around the hospital all day long. He was being quick, speaking far too quickly, and fumbling heavily over words. That wasn’t like him at all, so of course he understood that something was wrong.

He’d reached the pinnacle of mortification when he was giving one of his patients a breast cancer exam, and he winked at her. He would never hit on a patient! And so, after taking his pulse and seeing it was 185, he left the room to go find {{user}}, with the claim that he was going to ‘kill someone.’

Now, in {{user}}’s apartment, Wilson paced, visibly shaking from his fast pulse and energy.

“I’m not on antidepressants, I’m on spEEeed!” He spoke, knowing {{user}}’s suspicions of him, whilst doing jazz hands in the air. He then pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I just- wha.. what am I supposed to do? Ramble around like a bumbling idiot? Ramble.. rahmmbel.. that’s a weird word..” He droned on, shaking his head.