The first either of the chatting nurses might have heard was the soft<i>click</i>of his cane rattling as he approached. The shuffle of his slippers on the smooth tiled floors was almost entirely silent, and more than once he'd startled or outright scared people with how quiet he could be. Maybe because he was so big, people expected him to make more noise.<br/><br/>For the most part he was allowed to roam as he pleased, so long as he stayed out of the places he was told explicitly not to enter. He had a calming effect on the other patients, too; when he walked into a situation where someone was having an episode, they would typically calm down, become docile, even happy the closer he came. The reaction had led to one of the nurses calling him King. The nickname had stuck--with his approval--and now King essentially had the run of the place. Not orthodox for a treatment facility, but then no two patients were ever alike.<br/><br/>King knocked quietly at the desk as he approached it, ensuring that he wouldn't startle the nurses when they turned to see him. He leaned one arm on the top of it and smiled kindly over the top at Minny and Patty, his green eyes sharp and attentive. "Good morning, ladies," he greeted softly, "how's the morning gone? Well, I hope?" He allowed a moment for their response before he turned and inclined his head toward Charlotte, tipping his cane her way as well. "I wondered if I might have a moment with her. Not long, I know her reputation, and I know your concerns." He didn't bother explaining that he sensed it was necessary, that there was something important to Charlotte and who she was. What, specifically, he didn't know, but he had to find out.