Sincopation

07C - Red

"Philly," he said, smiling.

It was good to see him smile and her return it. Things were forgotten quickly in the asylum. We didn't see the point in letting disagreements linger on when we had to face each other every day. I was sure the orderlies would be more than happy to witness dragged out disputes, especially if they escalated. We, however, were more likely to start a new day as if nothing had happened on the previous one.

"They made me a cup of tea," she told him. "Two They made me two. With four sugars! Proper sugar, instead of that little pill crap. It was like I was in a café and I was the only customer."

"That's good," said Red. "I'm pleased they looked after you."

"They did. They did. Yes, they did. But no like you did. Nowhere near how well you looked after me."

"Me? I didn't do anything. I just wanted to stand up for you."

"You did, didn't you? You did stand up. And they couldn't knock you down!"

"Well... I just..."

"They couldn't knock you down or..."

"No," Red interrupted her, putting his hand on her arm. "Nothing happened. All I did was try to stop them hurting you, that's all."

"Red! No! It was much more than..."

"Philly, that was all. We don't need to worry about the rest, do we?"

The words 'do we' were emphasised and Red leaned in, his eyes hard as he said them. It was a sign to his companion to stop talking about it. Calm down and let's change the subject.

She blinked and gulped back her next sentence. There was a brief pause and she said:

"Four sugars!"

"Richardson."

One of the orderlies had been watching their conversation and moved closer as it continued. His voice was an ever deep growl that made you wonder if he'd eaten a lion and it was stuck inside his stomach, unable to climb out or be passed the other way. Its only recourse was to announce its presence when he opened his mouth to speak. He was tall but not very broad. More lanky than stocky. As such, his voice didn't suit him.

His name was John. We called him The Baptist, as his favourite method of getting a patient's attention was to pour a glass of the coldest water he could get over the head of his victim. He'd heard him being referred to by the nickname and, rather than be offended at it, he wore it proudly. It meant he was noticed. For what reasons didn't matter. People were aware of him.

Having divorced himself from his given name, Red ignored the orderly. He'd told everyone he wouldn't respond to it. He'd said what we should call him. Orderlies were not the sort to do what a patient told them and, if they could aggravate said patient in the process of doing the opposite, even better.

"Richardson!"

Philly looked worried, staring from Red to The Baptist and back.

"Red, maybe you should..."

"Four sugars, eh? That's too sweet for me."

Red was calm and was refusing to acknowledge the distraction. His jaw was tight, as if straining against the impulse to retort, but his voice did a decent job of disguising any stress.

Philly smiled, The Baptist forgotten and the conversation resumed.

"I know, but I thought I'd take advantage of Dr. Connors' generosity while I could. I didn't think he'd miss a couple of extra sugars."