Drew groans as the onslaught of questions from the nurses continues on, his vitals being taken as well as testing his ability to take in anything solid. He had woken up twenty minutes before but certain complications kept him in bed until the excruciating pain in his gut and head subsides. Right now its just a dull ache and Drew is almost certain its withdrawal still and not from the experiment. But then again maybe the shock to his system, going through with this experiment, caused all that pain to return. After asking for the fourth time if he could get dressed yet his answer is finally yes. At that he nearly jumps from the bed - reconsiders after the stomach pain fires up again. He slowly pulls on his clothes, which honestly aren't much but they suit him better than the ones they tried to give him; one raggedy, holey leather jacket over an equally as holey gray shirt and a pair of ripped up jeans later he's ready to blow this popsicle stand.
One nurse escorts him to floor nine to make sure he doesn't collapse again. As annoying as it is he gets their concern, not for himself of course but probably for the experiment. Its nearly the same concern all his 'friends' would express when getting high or drunk, or generally just blitz with him. They were never concerned directly for him. Somehow the pain that comes with that knowledge is a little more intense then the ache in his head and gut. The nurse leaves promptly, writing more things own on the clip board she carries.
There's people there already, a few girls. Drew blinks is eyes a few times, internally groaning. Great, he didnt think this would be so predominantly female, he's always been a little awkward around girls, especially attractive ones. Hell, he was awkward around his own sister, mostly because he didn't know how to act around the opposite gender. As far as he's concerned they might as well be aliens.
"Uh, hey there." Drew shifts awkwardly.