Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-27120173-20190113071131/@comment-27661770-20190117162319

In Chicago, the man is using the aforementioned chair to leave a building. A quick glance may reveal the "Disabled Veterans' Service Facility" sign, in somewhat faded letters. It's near the suburbs of Chicago- doesn't have to look well-maintained. A nurse next to him is talking to him on his way out.

"...and you'll need to sign the waiver in two weeks from now- you do need assistance on that, yes?"

"..."

"...Stupid question, I know. It's just that they like to make sure everything's accounted for and all. Redundancy of bureaucracy and all that."

"They should take one look at me and ask themselves how they expect me to use a pen."

"I'll file for a voice-recorder authentication in place of that. You remember that, right?"

"They read the shit to me out loud and I say "Yes, I have braincells and ears to rub together.""

"...Yes. And once you consent to the risk, if all goes well you might have a new arm!"

"If all goes well. Knowing me, it'll just be a flop and a scam."

"......I know that you hear about this kind of thing all the time but the big-money disability research is usually never a scam. People don't have it in them to steal money and make fake hope for people who can't use their limbs in their own selfish interests; your everyday medicine's not your story."

"Yeah, yeah..."

"...Well, if that's all you're concerned about, Jack's out in the van waiting to get you home."

"Hey, maybe I can go out and grab a beer-"

"Charles, NO."

"Hey, I'm just kiddin' around!"

"No alcohol. You're already impaired as is!"

"What, we denying beers to the disabled now? Ain;'t that illegal?"

"....Just get home."

"Okay."

He used the chair to move into the van, which had a handicap ramp leading into the back.

Hm.