[Stan accepts the pen and then looks around for something to write on. The only paper he can think of isn't in the room, though. So he tucks the pen behind his ear and wriggles out of the blankets, shakily climbing out if the bed. There's a practiced ease to it, even if it does seem like exertion at the moment. When he's free of that, he puzzled for a moment over the new locking mechanism on his pet IV pole. Hmm...]
no subject
How about a pin? Or a toothpick?