Chase doesn't acknowledge the gesture until he's checked the readouts on Wilson's monitors, carefully noting down stats against his own signature on the chart at the foot of the bed. All readings normal, as they have been since they sedated him, something Chase still thinks was worth doing for the rest provided if nothing else. Watching Wilson fight his delusions was as uncomfortable for the rest of them as it must have been for him. Better that he's out.

"We should bring him round in a while, see if it's still there." he observes, finally settling in the offered chair. "I can handle it with a nurse if you want to get home. Still time to drop by one of the parties."

There are a couple going on, in the welcome center and the foyer of one of the buildings. Thanksgiving seems an incongruous holiday for anyone to celebrate here, but apparently even displaced Americans enjoy imposing their culture on the rest. For his part, Chase pulls the paper bag towards him and fishes out a sandwich. Cheese salad, very festive.