“A janitor?” Clarence repeated. “You want me to be a janitor?”

“Janitor’s assistant really.” Hall looked up as a man in a gray jumpsuit as he passed by, pushing a map and bucket. “Hey Tony!”

“Hello Doctor Hall,” Tony said in greeting. His voice was haggard, as if he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in a week.

Hall held her arm out to keep Tony back for a moment. “You said you needed some help, right?”

Tony stopped and leaned on his mop for support. “You mean would I like a chance to go home on time for once? Yes I would.”

Hall nodded to him and turned back to Clarence. “Tony is the only late night janitor we have. You’ll be helping him on overnight cleaning. Your shift starts at ten and ends at seven.”

“In the morning?” Clarence asked, shocked that such a shift existed.

“You get used to it kid,” Tony said, passing him the mop. “Now follow me. Some patient threw up in room 212.”

“Ew. Does that happen a lot?”

Tony’s laughter did not sooth Clarence’s mind as he led the way.

Clarke kept his eye on Clarence until the young man was out of sight. He shook his head for a moment. “You weren’t planning on running a background check on him first?”

“You vouched for him,” Hall reasoned. “Besides, if he causes trouble, I’ll call you.”

Clarke blinked tiredly. It made enough sense to him.

“You know, you don’t have to be so hard on him,” Hall said. “He looked like he thought you were going to kill him.”

“Some people need to be pushed like that in order to have any motivation or drive. I just said what he had to hear and did what was necessary.”

“You catch more bees with honey than vinegar,” Hall said, picking up a new clipboard from the tray behind her. “What do you do with the people who don’t give in the way Clarence does?”

Clarke paused for a moment before answering. “Some people aren’t worth saving. I just weed out the weak and parasitic while trying to preserve the potentially useful.”

“Everyone’s worth saving,” Hall said adamantly.

Clarke could see that this discussion wasn’t going anywhere fast, and he was too tired to try to debate. Hall’s ideals were wonderful to hold, if not entirely unrealistic.

“Just keep an eye on the boy,” Clarke said, turning and walking towards the exit. “I need to find a motel. I don’t think I’ve slept in thirty hours.”

“Just use the on-call room,” Hall suggested. “It’s small, but there aren’t many of us here tonight. It should have everything you need in it.”

Clarke was hardly one to oppose, but he was far too tired to argue. It was an argument that he would likely lose as well. Hall was 2-0 so far. Without even putting up a fight, Clarke slumped his shoulders and headed for the back room that Hall had indicated.