Date changed from the 23rd as I made a bit of a mistake with the days and the dates, sorry - Kit

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It was a late Friday night, and Level 5 at the Ministry was quiet. The nightshift had slipped off to have a meeting and discuss the Australian Quidditch league. Johann Storm sat at his desk, scratching away at a long piece of parchment that had rolled off the edge of his desk and was reaching the floor the other side.

Sometimes it was good to work late, the dark winter nights brought quiet and if the place got cold, he wore his coat or cast a warming charm to take the nip out of the air. Tonight, he hadn't intended to stay late, but he couldn't leave a piece of work until the Monday, not in this state.

Glancing to what he was translating, his vision suddenly swam, and he paused, dropping the quill and rubbing both eyes. By the pocket watch sat on the desk before him, he knew it was late, but he had to finish. He hadn't slept since Tuesday night, and even then it had been fitful. He felt exhausted in body, but when he lay down to rest, he couldn't sleep for the incessant chanting and chattering of his thoughts.

Back in March, he had begun to swipe potion from St Mungo's apothecary. One of the pharmacists had been flattered by his attentions and not noticed him slide a little blue bottle into his pocket.

When Hannah Bombay and Colin Downer, his two best friends, had found out, they had told him off. The potion was to be diluted, and two of the bottles could put a giant down for an operation. Apparently only five drops in water would send a man to sleep for a limb reattachment. These days it took more than a few mouthfuls of it neat to put him down for the night. He couldn't afford to do that often - the thievery was harder seven months on, and he made do with mixing apothecary remedies instead to try and make himself a little drowsy.

The tolerance had built up over several years of abuse, and it didn't stop with that. The lack of sleep brought headaches, and the strength of the neat potion meant vomiting and burns to his throat. His features were gaunt, and his eyes were sinking in. He ate poorly, and since October had been more and more erratic. Johann admitted to himself he did not feel a well man, but tried to hide it as best he could from Colin, and his interactions with Hannah of recent weeks had been fleeting.

The words before his eyes swam again and the headache attached pounded against his temples. In desperation to finish this and then go home and try to rest, Johann fumbled in his coat pockets for the familiar bottle of headache potion - forgetting this one was the one he had decanted the blue sleeping potion from St Mungo's into. Without a care, he lifted it to his lips and downed the lot, only to realise what he had just swallowed a moment later.

His eyes flickered, and his head met the desk before he could comprehend.

Trotting across the office, Kaydn Hamilton, member of Trading Standards on Level 5, noticed Johann at his desk, but paid no attention. The two of them were pretty much sworn enemies, taking every opportunity to irritate or humiliate the other. Kaydn had returned to the office late, having forgotten his diary. He had the next two weeks off to go abroad and relax on his holidays, and had gone to the Leaky Cauldron after finishing work with some colleagues.

Turning around from retrieving the address book, he took another glance at Johann and saw the man appeared to be sleeping at his desk. What a laugh to wake the bugger up with a shock, Hamilton considered, a little merry from the beers. He tiptoed across the office until he was just behind Johann and proceeded to let off a very loud bang.

To his disappointment, Storm didn't stir. He dropped his arms and frowned, poking his colleague with the end of his wand.
"Oi, Storm." He called. It wasn't until he seized the other man's shoulders and nearly hauled him up off the surface of the desk that he realised anything was wrong. Johann, delirious and semi-unconscious, vomited fresh blood over Hamilton's suit.



Kaydn's arrival in the St Mungo's reception was a sight. The fresh blood dripped from him, and Johann landed on a heap on the floor, with bloody mouth, white as a sheet, and the imprint of what he had been translating inked on his cheek from coming to rest on the damp parchment.
"Help, I think its poison." Hamilton hurriedly told the healers, having found the little bottle of headache remedy in Johann's fingertips, he thrust it into the hands of the attending healers.
"I - I can't stay - he's Johann Storm, works for Level 5 at the Ministry - I found him like this.... I can't - really I can't..." With fear in his eyes, Hamilton turned on the spot, and disappeared in a panic.

Joy sat in her office, marking off recent patient's paperwork. Already, she had tended to two patient that day, and it didn't surprise her when another healer opened her door without knocking. She knew what this meant: another patient. The healer simply looked up at her co-worker, a clipboard and small blue bottle in hand.

"A patient is waiting in your ward, Joy. Yet another severe case," the woman said simply.

Joy rose, walking over to receive the clipboard. She glanced at the name, Johann Storm. "Thank you Cecily." Her co-worker continued to hold out the bottle until the witch took it. "What's this?"

"The patient was found with it after poisoning."

"Ah, thank you." The two exchanged smiles before Joy left her office and hurried down to her ward. She opened the door, not bothering to knock. In severe cases it didn't matter. The man that lay before her in the bed of her ward was quite a sight, but by now the healer was used to such things. Johann seemed to be out cold, Joy resorted to first seeing what exactly was in the bottle.

Placing it on a counter, Joy removed her wand. "Specialis Revelio." Right away the potion ingredients were revealed. They seemed familiar, yes, Sleeping Potion. It looked like overdosing. Large overdosing. The bottle was practically empty, at most the man could have consumed the whole thing.

She used her logo to communicate with a specific healer, as her higher rank allowed, to tell them to bring a bottle of Wiggenweld Potion to her ward. After all, Wiggenweld Potion wasn't commonly used on the floor, so it wasn't kept in the wards. While that was coming, Joy quickly went to work cleaning the patient, taking away the ink and blood on Johann's face with a Cleaning Charm.

The potion arrived, and Joy quickly measured out a large dose. She sat the man up, and then poured it directly down his throat. If this didn't work, she didn't know whether the patient would ever wake or not.

Such beautiful inky blackness, such blissful sleep...

But Johann's conscious mind would never realise. He knew nothing of the actions that had happened since the sheer panic which had set in on realising what he had done. It was as if he were a clock that had been held, and then let go to tick again a while later.

The smell came to him first, of herbs, potions and cleanliness, it reminded him of Hannah Bombay. He always liked the way she smelled, you could pick out the notes of where she had been, and her own scent beneath. She would find it odd if he buried his nose in her shoulder, but he would smell it at he took her coat, or passed her in narrow doorways. The smell reassured his mind that he must just be waking up on her sofa, as he had a while ago as her house guest. Johann felt a sudden feeling of worry that he would need to un-petrify her pet snake, Clifford, who he did not share a love of with her.

It was a wonderful sensation of slumber that felt so alien that he began to shrug off. His senses began to reawaken one by one from a fuzzy, disoriented state. His head throbbed like a giant was squeezing it with thumb and forefinger, but it slowly began to make calls to his limbs to check they were still attached. They all replied distantly, like men down a long mineshaft. His arms felt as if they were made of lead, and his legs were more distant he didn't feel the need to move them. Most noticeably, his shoulder smarted almost as much as his head, having hit the floor of St Mungo's post-apparition, though the reasons were unknown to him.

"Guhhh." The breath escaped his lips, resulting in a guttural groan. His ears buzzed at hearing it, and he could hear the chink of glass, the distant rattling of objects, voices, footsteps, as if someone had turned the sound back on. Not Hannah's then... that was unfamiliar... that was odd, but not yet alarming.

Johann let his head flop to one side, becoming aware he was sat up. He winced at the action, head pounding relentlessly. He felt a sudden, overwhelming feeling of nausea and pitched forward and over the side of the bed in a reflex manner, the vomit once again rising up his throat.

It was then his heavy eyelids cracked open in surprise, and realised he was most definitely not at home, work or Hannah's.
"Ugh!" He managed, and tried to co-ordinate his hand to his face to wipe away the liquid that had just decided to leave him unceremoniously, but only managed to get it halfway before tipping backwards to where he had come from, feeling decidedly unsteady.

His throat burned and as his senses rushed to report back on their findings, he felt clammy and cold, and his memory shakily reminded him of his last glimpse of working at the Ministry, and the panic revisited.
"What's going on?" He croaked, blinking as his surroundings seemed so very bright and bold.

Joy held tight on the patient as he struggled to come back to consciousness, smiling when he opened his eyes. "Shh, it's alright. Calm down Mr. Storm." The benefits of learning a patient's name beforehand. "You're in St. Mungo's, in my ward." The woman sat down on the bed next to the man, using one hand to rub his back. This usually helped calm the patient.

"You were brought here with an empty bottle of Sleeping Potion. I suspect you were overdosed." Johann didn't seem to know what had happened, so Joy informed him. She motioned to the blue bottle, still sitting on the counter, as she said this. Normally, Joy would question a patient how exactly they were poisoned, but now didn't seem the proper time to do this.

"How are you feeling?" If Joy had known the patient had recently experienced nausea there was little chance she would be sitting so close, she would have at least cast a Vomit-Supressing Spell on him beforehand.

There was a firm grip on him, though not in a threatening way, and the shape of a female face came into view.
"Shh, it's alright. Calm down Mr. Storm. You're in St. Mungo's, in my ward."

St Mungo's! His mind shrieked. He would be found out for stealing, and worse, could be dismissed from the Ministry for being unfit for work. The woman who had addressed him in the healers robes however, seemed anything but angry with him, and sat down on the bed beside him, putting a motherly hand to his back which until now, only really his mother had ever been associated with. Johann blinked and tried to arrange his scattered thoughts, disorientated by the turn of events.

"Why... how?" He managed to utter, and her answer came smoothly.

"You were brought here with an empty bottle of Sleeping Potion. I suspect you were overdosed." One of her hands gestured and Johann tried to see what it was on the counter beside, to see the a familiar bottle. There was no hiding what it was.

"Oh," was all that Johann could manage, and closed his eyes a moment.

"How are you feeling?"

He opened his eyes again and looked at her reproachfully. She was being very kind, but that could be because she wanted him to confess? His conscience gave a deep sigh and told the other, panicking side of his brain to give it a rest.

"Terrible." Johann admitted. "I figure it must have been serious to end up in here... er... thank you, for whatever you have done." His voice was still croaky and he rubbed at his neck. "Feels like I've downed a barrel of firewhiskey - head's pounding, room's spinning, throat aches and it wants to revisit in the wrong direction." If he couldn't remember the fear before he'd slipped unconscious, he'd have presumed he had bumped into Ignan and Georg and ended up in a pub.

"How do you know my name? I don't know yours?"

The patient seemed very on edge after she informed him he was at St. Mungo's. Joy didn't consider it odd that he was on edge, that was normal for those recovering, but it was odd Johann only became that way after being where he was. Perhaps he didn't like the hospital.

The look that Joy got from her question confused her slightly, but she figured the patient just felt bad and was not in a good mood. That was common. The healer simply continued to rub the man's back and listen to him. "My pleasure," Joy responded after he thanked her.

Her soft smile grew into an amused one at his next question, though she didn't laugh. She never laughed at her patients unless they were cracking a joke. "Whenever a healer is given a patient, we are given their records. Your name is on your records, Mr. Storm." She paused for a second, before going to the second question. "My name is Joy Torret, I am the Healer-in-Charge of the third floor."

Now that introductions were out of the way, the healer wanted to work towards the goal of healing her patient. "The head aches and spinning feeling are normal given the overdose you received. They should ease over time. I can help with the nausea now." She drew her wand back from the wand pocket of her uniform, pointing it at Johann. "Vomito Confuto." The spell was spoken clearly and loud enough that the patient could hear it. Joy always did this so patients knew what she was doing.

"That will keep you from vomiting." Joy stored the wand back in her uniform.

"My name is Joy Torret, I am the Healer-in-Charge of the third floor."

Johann's eyebrows raised, surprised he'd managed to come to the attention of the Healer-in-Charge of a floor. Third floor... must be potions if they had put his arrival down to the bottle.

"The head aches and spinning feeling are normal given the overdose you received. They should ease over time. I can help with the nausea now. Vomito Confuto." Johann instinctively put a hand to his stomach, which although still felt rather unsettled, at least felt less like it wanted to force its way up.

"That will keep you from vomiting."

"Thanks." Johann uttered in a croak, getting used to the odd sensation. "I suppose that's a small price to pay instead of boils or sprouting new limbs." The linguist cracked the poor joke out of trying to deflect the attention as he got his head around what had happened. "I don't know whether to be flattered or worried that I'm being treated by the Healer-in-Charge..."

Frowning, he looked up at Healer Torret, one particular item was most definitely missing from his memory.
"How did I get here? I don't have any memory from being at my desk in the Ministry. What time is for that matter?"

Joy gave a small laugh at Johann joke, despite the fact that there was little humor behind it. She took her hand off of the patient's back, as the man was now seeming to come back to his senses, needing less comforting than before. The healer got up from the bed to go look at the man's records, what she hadn't gotten time to before.

"Oh, be neither. Relief is far more fitting for the situation, be happy you will soon be well," Joy commented as she looked over one page. "You were only brought to my ward because you came in a quite sorry condition," she said this without confirmation, just judging on the appearance of Johann when she walked in, "And because your poisoning was unidentified."

At the next question Joy looked up from the records, turning to face her patient. "I am sorry to say I don't know how you got here, but since you were unconscious someone who was where you were after you drank the Sleeping Potion must have brought you here. At least that is what I would assume."

Joy paused to glance at a clock on one of the walls. A clock was kept in each ward that displayed the current time so one could easily give doses of antidotes at exact times. "9:37," she read. "Not too late. If the effects of the potion wear off soon I can release you to go home." She rarely stated the alternative, which was spending the night in her ward.

"Mr. Storm, do you remember how you ended up drinking the Sleeping Potion, or how much you drank?"

Arcturus was used to people running around in the hospital, it was a natural part of his daily life and therefore nothing to worry about. However, he did raise an eyebrow when he got the order to get a Wiggenweld Potion, which didn't happen often enough to become part of his daily life as well.

When he got to Joy, she was standing over an unconscious man who was far too pale to be healthy, cleaning what looked like ink and blood off him. This got him to raise his eyebrow even further, although he was starting to feel the limits of how far his brow could disappear into his hairline. He gave it to her and stood back at a respectable distance, but not too far that he couldn't hear what she was saying to the patient. He was interested in how this was going to play out, and exactly what in the recesses of Merlin's beard had happened to this particular patron of the hospital.

The man stirred sluggishly after Joy's swift and expert application of the Potion. Joy addressed him; so, his family name was Storm. Not that Arcturus had heard of it, but he kept it in mind. He listened to the conversation, watching Mr Storm's reactions to Joy but neither saying nor indicating any response. As far as he was involved, it was none of his business and therefore he was not privileged on joining in at any point. Besides, Joy didn't need any unnecessary intervention unless she called for it from him.

When Joy asked the patient how much potion he had drank, though, Arcturus drew slightly closer. Sleeping Potion poisoning, was it? How much would this man have had to drink it in order to have blood everywhere and be this sluggish? Even he didn't enjoy having to use it unless in the worst of circumstances, such as nightmares, and the dilution factor for the potion was up there with those of many other concoctions that warranted permission from higher authority figures (such as Joy, in this case). He'd need to listen in more, although eavesdropping like this was starting to weigh on his conscience and eventually he'd had to say something or leave. And he did have something to say.

He eventually leaned over as discreetly as was possible in this situation and whispered to Joy, "Sorry to interrupt, but may I see the bottle over there?", indicating towards the bottle of what was probably the offending substance. "I'm just intrigued by the appearance of the vessel, don't mind me."

Torret stepped away from him to read over some parchment to one side. Johann caught sight of what appeared to be his name. If those were St Mungo's records, they'd be slim, and minimal. He'd arrived in the UK less than twelve months ago and his sole formal encounter with St Mungo's before this was to prove he was fit for work with the Ministry of Magic. A formality of eyesight, and the declaration of any conditions. Johann had spent as little time as was physically possible before a squat wizard who was bored out of his mind, and seemed much more interested in the possibility of examining a female hitwitch on her return to duty after an illness instead.

"You were only brought to my ward because you came in a quite sorry condition, and because your poisoning was unidentified. I am sorry to say I don't know how you got here, but since you were unconscious someone who was where you were after you drank the Sleeping Potion must have brought you here. At least that is what I would assume."

Johann pondered a moment on that. Whoever had brought him in hadn't lingered then, and had been in the office late night. The night shift had been in the other room, it was a possibility they might have picked him up, but they weren't the sort to depart straight away unless they were short staffed. The blank in the middle was almost as troubling as his symptoms, and the fact that blue bottle sat nearby, quite clearly from the hospital apothecary, and not from Diagon Alley. 

"Not too late." Torret had answered his question about the time. "If the effects of the potion wear off soon I can release you to go home." Home sounded good, though actually he didn't feel too excited about co-ordinating his limbs for the moment. They all felt heavy and uncooperative, and his head still span enough to slow down his mind which was already evaluating possible excuses, or who could have discovered him and yet not stayed.

"Mr. Storm, do you remember how you ended up drinking the Sleeping Potion, or how much you drank?"

Healer Torret brought him out of his thoughts, and his eyes flickered to her face, and then hastily down to his legs before sitting back to rest a little, the room steadying when he did, though everything still seemed brighter than it needed to be.

"I, erm." Johann gave a false start, and rubbed the side of his face,
"Occasionally have trouble sleeping," half-truth
"and bought it at the apothecary the other day to see if it would help," lie
"Must have mistaken it for headache remedy," bleary truth.

He tried to look humbly embarrassed, rather than 'this isn't quite the truth and I'm not thinking quickly enough to create a decent cover story' embarrassed. Pity he had never quite been the best liar, and had failed to attend the occlumency sessions the staff were meant to take to try and improve the secrecy of the Tetra-wizard tournament.

"Sorry to interrupt, but may I see the bottle over there?" The appearance of another healer in the room made Johann jump, and draw his leadened legs up towards himself.

The man with white and black hair was gesturing to the blue bottle that had only a few drops left. Johann's memory flitted back to try and recall how much it might have had in it, and realised he must have necked almost the full thing. No wonder his memory had stopped so suddenly.
"I'm just intrigued by the appearance of the vessel, don't mind me."

Johann eyed the wizard suspiciously. How long had he been there? He'd been so dazed and confused on waking he must not have seen him the other side of the bed, or he had been concealed.

"Who are you?" He asked in alarm, an arm now looped around his knees on the side furthest from Joy, and the hand nearest her pressed to the side of his head as it spun again from jumping. His eyes stared wildly, the expression not helped by the dark shadows beneath his eyes and his angular features.

Merlin, he had a feeling his lies were not washing with these two. He shouldn't have gone with the apothecary story.

As her patient gave his answer, Joy looked over the bottle for a few moments, recognizing it almost immediately.  She went over and sat down next to Johann again as he finished his story. Though the man seemed hesitant with his answers, Johann was lucky at the time he was experiences the effects. Joy at first suspected nothing. Suddenly, a thought seemed to strike her. "I'm sorry, sir, but could you-"

Arcturus walked in, and Johann became so startled. Where had her co-worker come from? Healers, when summoned, never lingered around to watch the healing. "Mr. Storm, calm down," the healer quickly said. She placed a hand on the shoulder nearest to her, trying to steady him, before going back to rubbing his back. Joy then turned her attention to her co-worker. "No worries, Arcturus, go right ahead." Joy already knew what the bottle was.

"Mr. Storm, you said you bought the potion from the apothecary, but that bottle is from the St. Mungo's apothecary." No one could purchase anything there, it was prescriptions only. Joy had worked at St. Mungo's more than half her life, she knew bottles like those anywhere.

"Are you sure, sir, you didn't have a prescription?" The first thought that came to her mind was not that Johann had stolen it. It wasn't the second or the third thought either. Benefit of the doubt clouded her judgement of how the man had obtained Sleeping Potion in such a bottle.

Arcturus picked the bottle up, nodded to Joy and Johann and then backed off quietly. He had no intention of giving any input on the conversation he'd heard; as much as he had opinions he preferred someone ask him for them if it wasn't a dire emergency.

He stood in the background and examined the bottle, especially touching it with his fingertips. Arcturus had, over time, become so used to St Mungo's apothecary that he tended to take for granted the appearance of any potion bottle as just "a bottle in which some solution was stored" at first glance. However, his fingers could often help him identify them by touch since he had handled so many bottles. Not that he did this consciously, but over time he'd come to realise how useful this was, especially when it clicked with an earlier observation of his that no two potions had the same bottles.

A St Mungo's apothecary bottle, though, was hard to find outside of the hospital itself. He felt the surface of the bottle carefully. The label was gone, but it was definitely for Sleeping Potion.

Arcturus listened to the conversation as he continued to gaze at the bottle, his eyebrow raised a little. Maybe this could be some sort of home brew poured into a St Mungo's bottle? He was fairly suspicious, but not of the patient; he was more curious about the potion's actual origins, of which he wasn't sure if the patient could inform them or not, to begin with.

"Mr. Storm, calm down,"

She was back again, and Johann half closed his eyes, letting his arms encircle his bent legs and his head fall forward onto his knees. Torret's hand was on his shoulder, trying to offer reassurance. She had a better beside manner than Hannah, Johann could vouch for that. Hannah would probably have backhanded him on waking up, knowing what was going on.

"No worries, Arcturus, go right ahead." He heard the other healer, now identified as Arcturus, retire away from them, and raised his head enough to watch him examine the bottle.

"Mr. Storm, you said you bought the potion from the apothecary, but that bottle is from the St. Mungo's apothecary."

Johann feigned surprise a moment, but the game would soon be up. He only hoped the girl in the apothecary didn't get the sack for falling for his deception.

"Are you sure, sir, you didn't have a prescription?"

"Perhaps I did. My head is spinning so much I don't know what to think." Lie. He sighed defeatedly, and fell silent a moment, watching Arcturus watching him in return. Perhaps that was it, the prescription would be a way out, a method of maintaining this arrangement long term - with consent. He'd been so against going to a healer thinking they'd just tell him to stick it out. Only he'd tried that, and if it hadn't been for Vedir's accidental intervention of France which gave him the time to recuperate away from his responsibilities, he might have been very ill indeed.

"Alright, I stole it." Johann told them quietly, raising his metaphorical white flag. He was tired, he felt awful and really very ill, and perhaps it couldn't go on. The lack of sleep brought headaches, and the strength of the neat potion meant vomiting and burns to his throat - hence the bloody mouth that had become a more regular symptom. Perhaps it should be Hannah giving him a smack round the head instead of Torret perched beside him being motherly. That sympathy made him feel more idiotic and frustrated with his situation.

Unable to meet her eyes, Johann continued in his explanation, staring at the foot of the bed, still hugging his legs.
"I have been since March. But, I need it. I can't sleep, I've been through every one stocked in apothecaries up the country. I've taken three of them together, doubled the doses, but nothing. That's the only thing that'll shut my head up." He ran a hand shakily through his damp, tangled hair, and pointed to the bottle in Hollingbury's hands.

"Just give me a prescription and I'll be out of your ward and I'll stop thieving it from your supplies."

Determined that it must be the easy and logical way out of this uncomfortable situation, he went to get up, but still unsteady and absolutely exhausted, he near fell out of bed had it not been for the hand of Healer Torret still present on his shoulder.

Johann commented about how much his head was spinning, and Joy reached into her pocket. "I have something that will help for that Mr. Storm." The healer began to pull out a flask filled with Wit-Sharpening Potion, just before her patient began confessing.

Stolen Sleeping Potion? How did this man even get to it? It was an unasked question that ran through Joy's head. It quickly became obvious to her Johann must be addicted, he had quite a sorry story to tell. The witch listened without commenting, looking at him with mixed concern and disappointment. He never caught her eyes once.

"I'm sure you are aware I-" Joy started when her patient finished, tightening her grip on him as he practically fell off the bed. Her other hand caught his chest, steadying him. "You don't have your sense of balance back yet, sir. I'd suggest sitting still." Joy finally drew the flask from her pocket. "Drink this, it'll make your mind clearer." She handed him the flask in with one hand and took one of his hands in the other.

The healer took a deep breath before beginning to talk. "Johann, you are addicted to Sleeping Potion. Once you begin to rely on a potion to the extent where you feel you cannot live without it you are addicted. There is no way I will supply you with the potion, nor will I allow anyone else to." Joy didn't state what measures she could go through to make sure he didn't get his hands on any more.

"I think that, especially after this overdosing, you can see the dangers of Sleeping Potion. How long have you been relying on it so heavily?" Joy knew that, before her patient left, there would be some plan made to break him of his addiction. That was her job as a healer.

"...There is no way I will supply you with the potion, nor will I allow anyone else to."

Merlin's buttocks, that had backfired. He sniffed at the potion she was offering - anything to try and feel better. The thin wizard raised it to his lips and let his dark blue eyes slide to finally meet Torret's. Her hand held his trembling one, he was exhausted.

"I think that, especially after this overdosing, you can see the dangers of Sleeping Potion. How long have you been relying on it so heavily?"

Johann was trapped, with his balance and limbs letting him down, he was confined to this bed until they managed to resume their usual service. The frustration was written across his face and conveyed in the intensity of his gaze.

His only possible routes out were silence and sleep, neither were easy to achieve at that moment with two sets of eyes. For all he knew the woman could feed him veritaserum next as a 'remedy' for one of his symptoms.

Thankfully he suspected what he had just drunk was wit sharpening potion instead. His mind was steadily coming back to speed, filing information and searching for missing seconds and details. With it, the chatter of thoughts came with it, his eyes flitted around the room, taking a few seconds to pay better attention to his surroundings.

"Heavily?" He echoed, raising his eyes a moment in thought before blinking and looking to Torret. "With that since March, but before that... years. I'd either succumb to exhaustion after several days or manage to send myself to sleep with an apothecary potion. Once I built tolerance I'd switch to another, until none of them seemed to work, or I couldn't keep down the dose."

This was a perfect truth. The number of times he had exhaustedly rushed from where he had settled down to try and sleep, to empty his stomach and realise he was back to square one were more evenings than he cared to remember.

"I once contemplated stunning myself." He added in a deadpan tone, recalling the moment sat cross legged on his bed at Gabrielle's, his wand tip resting between his eyes as he tried to pluck up the courage. He hadn't trusted himself not to do more than knock himself out.

"I last slept a few hours on Tuesday. Please, just knock me out now and let me sleep? Honestly, the overdose is a complete accident - I thought it was headache remedy, a prescription is all I need." He asked Torret desperately, and then looked to Arcturus,
"Surely if I'm 'addicted' I can't be denied entirely, and I need to rest to recover." He implored to him for an opinion to support his request for the blue bottled potion. Somehow this rather quieter healer didn't seem the sort to agree with him, but he didn't have many other options.