A week after being checked into the hospital in Los Angeles, Wesley was free to go.

And as it turned out, Wesley was not really all that skilled at steering a wheelchair. Or... skilled at all, really. The process of transporting himself from the tip of the causeway all the way to the dorms involved quite a bit of bumping into things, a fair amount of swearing under his breath, and more than a little damage to the wheels of the damn thing.

It also took over an hour, what with the occasional (and then... less occasional) much-needed break to stop, breathe, and avoid straining the injury that was confining him to this stupid thing in the first place.

But. Eventually he made it. After, you know, swearing quite a bit to himself on the elevator ride up to the fifth floor, and bumping into quite a few walls and all of that.

It was safe to say that he he'd made more noise than intended, let's leave it at that.

[[door and post both open! and consider this your warning that if i forget to mention the chair in narrative for the next couple weeks, he is still in it, yup.]]