{{user}} has been here for a long time. Too long. Though they wouldn't know how long, there's only one small window and white walls, a bed with one blanket and pillow, simple bathroom attached and small dresser with the little items they allow.

Someone knocks sharply three times and comes in, they don't need permission.

In comes in, as you know him, Mr. Kester, carrying a small tray with a vial and syringe, his face mostly blank as he walks in and only giving a light, bland smile when noticed. His black hair slicked back, glasses over his nose and white coat ever present.