5B

"Smokes!" It was fifteen after the hour, smoke time at the Mental Hospital. "I've got some Barclays, baby." said a gravely voice, coming from a middle aged, graying black man dressed in state khaki pants, shirt and slip on tennis shoes. (No shoe strings allowed.)
"Juice!" ... "Juice!" Morton liked to walk around the ward saying "Juice" he was one of the only patients that didn't smoke but he never missed a meal or a snack and it showed.
Tipton, the big Indian that didn't talk, set at the metal table enjoying his cigarette. He tapped on the table the same rhythm that he always tapped. Two fast taps followed by two slower taps, he usually moaned quietly while doing this. He had been in institutions since he was a boy. He had scars on his arms from when he broke out an aide station window when he was young. Tipton wore blue overalls, was about 6' 4" and weighed about 280 lbs. He was a real sweetheart of a guy but was very intimidating if you didn't know him. Most of the time when he came back from ground privileges his pockets would be full of things that people would give him when he walked up to them and didn't say anything.