If Nigredo had any say, he would have continued--black-visioned and unaware--clear through to next week. The conscious world did not seem all too concerned with his presence; time wouldn't be missed, in the end. They, however, felt differently, as evident by the soft hand at his back.

"Nigel? Nigel? Wake up, dear," its owner urged gently. There was a soft intake of breath. "We shouldn't have given him that strong of a dose."

"I'm sorry," another spoke up, before mumbling something inaudible. As if she realized he was listening in. "...mg was enough. It worked with..."

The one whose hand he felt clucked her tongue. "He must be sensitive. Cut the dosage in half next time-- Nigel, dear." The hand shook. "Please wake up."

Nigredo lifted an eyelid, only to clamp it shut immediately. The light forced an increasingly sharp sensation against his sinus, signs of a migraine in full swing. "My head hurts," he whimpered, feeling bad for both his excuse and the part in question.

Eventually, the child stabilized long enough to be escorted out. Of the three choices, they opted to leave him in an area of the institute called the "chapel", where the lack of sun and harsh noises should prove more beneficial than not. Nigredo, who held no opinion, gave no objections and was simply content to lean into the ice pack one of them held out to him. His nerves still crackled almost audibly while his blood rushed in between breaths, but as long as they didn't require him to do much of anything, he should be all right.

Ideally, that is.

[Closed to Sakura.]