New Surroundings [TAG: Freya]

[Ethan Kaul]

Ethan was walking through a forest. It was once he had been to many times before, one just outside the city where he had grown up. His maternal grandparents, when they were still alive, used to drive him there every week, and had let him climb trees and explore while they relaxed. Those were some of the fondest memories of  his childhood, and now, as he wove his way through the trees, he felt at peace for the first time in however long. Somehow, he must have escaped that place, that was the only logical explanation. Otherwise, this would have to be a dream, and he wasn't going to accept that idea anytime soon. Not while he felt this happy.

All of a sudden, a chill came over his body, and he closed his eyes tightly, willing the eerie feeling that had enveloped him to go away. No, no, no! This was meant to be a dream, not a nightmare. He was supposed to be back home, in his favourite place...

"Ethan Kaul," a voice boomed, "Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

His eyes snapped back open. Before him was a woman in a wedding dress, her back facing him, no hint as to what her identity could be. Was this his bride? He hadn't expected their wedding to be so... outdoors, for one, and for him not to see his bride. Still, that didn't change his answer. 

"I don't," he announced, his voice only slightly wavering, "I can't."

Laughter began to ring in his ears, a grating sound that sent a shiver down his spine. The bride slowly began to turn around, getting closer and closer, until finally, he looked into her eyes.

It was the mannequin.

...

Ethan awoke with a jolt, drenched in sweat. Fighting the urge to vomit, he rolled over, and was met with... pink?

What?!

He immediately recognised the tiny figure that was laying next to him as being Freya, which only furthered his confusion. Carefully, he sat up in the bed. Well, this new room was certainly a downgrade, but out of the corner of his eye he could see into the bathroom, and thankfully saw a toilet. Oh thank FUCK. At least there was that silver lining.

Still, many question remained, swirling around his hazy brain. How had he gone to bed on the floor, with Huxley snoring just metres away, and woken up in a completely different room in bed with Freya? Clearly whoever had kidnapped them had been listening to his pleas, but why? And why Freya, surely they would know that the two of them had been trying to destroy one of the walls in the room? They obviously weren't a trustworthy combination.

He bit his lip, trying to ease himself off the bed without waking her up, but realised immediately that that would be impossible with how squeaky the mattress was. 

"Freya?" he murmured, gently tapping on her shoulder. Although he felt bad about waking her up, he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. Obviously she might not like the idea of the two of them sharing a bed, so he wanted to have the discussion about sleeping arrangements sooner rather than later. Plus, with the two of them being awake, they might be able to put their heads together and work out what the hell was going on.

[Freya Alexander]

The darkened mass of nothing pulses beyond Freya’s eyelids. She felt the heaviness, felt her entire body and its tiny stature; the beating of her heart against her rows of ribs; the itchiness of some uncomfortable sheets beneath her; the sensation of movement next to her. She felt… alive, and yet not. Without and within herself. A bystander as well as the player within this game of lives.

The heaviness of her head was becoming familiar to the young woman now, circumventing the clear strain this was putting on her body, Freya was growing almost used to the woozy feeling. The stricken panic she feels whenever that gas is pumped into their room and the onslaught of dizzy nausea hitting her, however, was a whole other matter. Just thinking about it sent her brain into an inconsolable frenzy, not knowing whether she’d wake up again from her slumber or be resigned to an eternal solitude in the dark.

An added negative of the drug-induced sleep was how long it took her to rouse. Being small, it didn’t take much to knock her stone-cold-asleep, though shaking it from her system took an unsparingly long time. She felt a dip, and a painful squeak of a mattress. Was Hannah there? Freya could only imagine what the woman would say, cooing over her like the mother she never had. To say it wasn’t one of the most pleasant parts of this hellscape would be an outright lie. Freya purred gently, her eyelids desperate to open, but frozen in place. Just five more minutes, it seemed.

Shifting slightly, Freya hooked her arm around a pillow, burying her face into it for comfort. Noooo, no wakey time. She could get up later… Although, she had never known the pillows in her room to be so… firm? No, hard. They were flatter than roadkill, sure, but held some semblance of comfort in them to at least call themselves pillows. This was nothing of that sorts. Groaning in frustration as she tried to snuggle deeper, Freya became very, very aware that it likely wasn’t a pillow she was hugging.

Then there was a slight feeling of pressure on the girl’s shoulder, and a very non-Hannah masculine voice tended to her.

Wait, what?

Pale blue eyes fluttering open, she took a moment to adjust to the gloomy light illuminating the room she was in… until she met eyes with… the man who’s arm she had currently seized as her own personal snuggle tool. Ethan. Letting go immediately, Freya’s weary eyes snapped open in an embarrassed horror, jumping up quicker than her body would allow. The drugs still ever prevalent in her system, the girl almost tumbled head-first off the bed before saving herself at the snap of her own arm. A distinct wildfire spread red across her cheeks as her teeth clamped over her lip.

“What the fuck is… w-what?” she asked, incredulous. And this was before she addressed the… lovely suite in which they both were now living. Such a distinct drop in quality to the last, Freya raked daggers over the room, from the tiny metal bed they both were expected to sleep on, to the (surprising) toilet in the bathroom. It was too much, suddenly, aware that she had likely been sleeping next to him – though not the first time she could say that. Turning her head to her lap in order to just… process, Freya finally mustered up the courage to look Ethan directly in the eye -

- and burst out laughing.

Shaking her head in unfathomed bewilderment, Freya heaved in air as the tears filled her eyes. “I-I have no words,” she snickered, pushing back the frizzy pink hair that had amassed before her eyes. If only she had a hairband or something, it was truly becoming a chore to look at herself; nevermind the pale roots beginning to creep at the edges of her scalp. “I am SO sorry, but that was… I’m so done with this place,” she shook her head with an emotion bordering hysteria, though more on the humoured side. “Hi,” she said more shyly this time. “UHHH, how are you doing?”

[Ethan Kaul]

Instead of waking up normally as he'd expected, Freya instead decided to turn over and... nuzzle his arm? Well, this was... an interesting development. It seemed Ethan couldn't exist in this place without whoever his current roommate was trying to snuggle him in their sleep, although he had to admit he had less complaints about Freya cuddling him than he did the older man. Still, it seemed that she didn't exactly realise she was using him as a pillow, so, entirely unsure of what to do, he tapped her once more on the shoulder with his free hand.

"Freya," he chuckled, "Good morning sleepyhead, is my arm comfortable?"

Her blue eyes opened, and the moment they met his they widened in a mixture of shock, horror, and embarrassment, and she jumped away from him instantly. His arms instantly shot out to catch her when she stumbled; luckily her reflexes were quick enough for her to steady herself before she managed to get injured. That was good at least, he didn't really want to have yet another patient on his hands, especially when there could be hazards in the room that he hadn't yet picked up on.

“What the fuck is… w-what?” the pink haired girl exclaimed, and his eyebrows raised ever so slightly. 

"Well, I mean, it looks like we're roommates. Although next time you'll have to ask before you use me as a pillow, you know," he teased. It had been just as much a shock for him to wake up in a different, considerably worse room, with her beside him instead of Huxley, and it was clear that the gas was still having an effect on her, so he wasn't going to be too serious too soon.

She didn't seem to want to look at him, perhaps out of shame at having cuddled him, not that he was really phased by it. It was less of a surprise now than when he'd woken up to Huxley, anyway. Her eyes surveyed the room, taking everything in, before finally they landed on him.

And then, she was laughing.

The sound of her laughter shocked him for a moment. Ethan certainly hadn't expected her to find humour in the whole situation, but it was better than crying, anyway. A smile came to his face as she watched her, her face red, chest heaving as she giggled at the strange predicament they had found themselves in. 

“I-I have no words,” she choked out through peals of laughter, and his grin grew wider, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

"This is insane, right? Out of all the people..." he shook his head, now laughing along with her. It really was funny, especially since how hard they'd worked to see each other. Perhaps their kidnapper had taken mercy on them after all, although the state of their room would suggest differently, of course.

“I am SO sorry, but that was… I’m so done with this place.”

Both of their laughter died down after a while, and they were left in a comfortable silence for a moment, before she broke it by shyly asking how he was doing.

"Well, about as good as a guy stuck in what is essentially a prison cell could be," he grinned sheepishly, shifting his position on the bed, "But it was definitely nice to wake up on a mattress for once. The floor really was doing my back in."

He looked around at the room once more. Although it was certainly more barren than his previous room, it wasn't... so bad. It could be a lot worse, and he could be in worse company as well. If he had been stuck with Kim, or Cece...

Ethan shook his head to dispel the thought, not even wanting to entertain the idea.

"How are you Freya, after that... interesting awakening?" he smiled at her, trying to seem reassuring. Even though they weren't in the nicest room, or the best situation, they could still make do with what they had.

[Freya Alexander]

Watching Ethan’s bafflement had also been a source of great humour to Freya, as the ebbs of giggles faded into nothing. “Using (Ethan) as a pillow” so to speak just seemed to be taken in his own stride, the poor young man likely having been desensitised by the hands of his former roommate. Watching his face break into a smile was an added relief to her also, recalling his seriousness the last time they had met in person, and spoke through the wall.

Freya wiped the tears away from her eyes, considering only for a brief moment why they were placed together. Arguably somewhat of ‘troublemakers’, the pair were hardly the most sensible of groupings, seeing as their desperation to wreck the rooms was both pointless but also admirable in their consistent effort. Freya realised the broken cane – used as a lever to try and bring down the plaster – was still on her person, and she pulled it from where it was digging directly into her back. Feeling its slight weight, she began absentmindedly twirling it through her hands, her hand gripping the golden dog at the top of its formerly expensive frame.

"This is insane, right? Out of all the people..."

She giggled at that, as his mind seemed to have merged with hers only briefly. “Makes you worry that they’re watching closer than you give them credit for,” she speculated, the ‘them’ in question still a source of great confusion to those trapped within the boundaries of their rooms. “Or, perhaps not watching close enough,” she smirked, pointing the cane at Ethan as an extension of her arm. Placing the thing gingerly next to her, Freya sat up properly against the bed frame, the metal digging into her back. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was clear it was far too much of an effort to try and bust the walls down. What if they tried the doors? Hm.

But then Ethan softly replied to her questions of his own mental and physical wellbeing, and the girl’s mind was drawn away from their escape route.

“…But it was definitely nice to wake up on a mattress for once. The floor really was doing my back in." The girl nodded at that one, noting the fair many times that she herself had passed out on the floor in a conscious effort to give Hannah more room for the bed, not that the older woman ever agreed to it. But Freya felt terrible not letting her – someone who had gone through so much and needed the space – in to just relax when she needed it. So, the floor had become a second home to her.

“If you want the bed Ethan, don’t let me stop you. I could probably fit anywhere,” she mused, directing to the chair in the corner of the room, or the grubby carpet that had likely never been washed in years. “I mean, if you want it, and your back needs it. I could curl up on the end like a cat,” she added, purring dramatically.

“Oh, me?” she choked out, catching herself off guard when he reciprocated her own questions. Clearing the amass of phlegm that had amalgamated in her throat, she smiled sheepishly and ran her fingertips automatically through the curls of blonde and pink; a nervous reaction. “I mean, yeah, the same. All this faffing around, and I’m still not used to getting drugged. Who knew,” she rolled her eyes and exhaled, her brow furrowing in a defeated dissatisfaction.

She stood from her seated position, stretching off the sleep permeated within her bones, and groaned doing so. “So old,” she murmured regarding herself, before inspecting the rest of the room. “OOOH, A toilet is pretty sexy!” she called through from the bathroom, emerging with two bright thumbs up. “AAAAND the rest is pretty shit, isn’t it?” She added, laughing, before coming to a stop at the chest at the end of the bed. Tapping her foot against it, she tilted her head to the side in a reserved curiosity. “What crap do you think’s been left in here?”

[Ethan Kaul]

Her expression turned into a playful smirk as she considered Ethan's words, pointing the cane directly at him. He hadn't actually managed to see it before - the crack had been too small - but now he could take in the ornate gold detailing and the jagged end. This cane could actually be rather useful as a weapon, if wielded by the correct person. There was, however, the question of how she'd managed to keep it with her, even though they'd been gassed and moved. Surely their captor would realise its potential as a makeshift dagger? Either they lacked common sense, or they had a reason for letting Freya keep it. He wished he had something he could contribute, but alas, a crack in the wall of a room he was no longer in wasn't going to help anybody.

“Makes you worry that they’re watching closer than you give them credit for... Or, perhaps not watching close enough.”

The idea appeared to amuse her, and he found himself grinning at her remark. Once again, putting the two of them together was not the ideal way of keeping them in check; now that they were in the same room, their chaotic ideas had even more of a chance of coming to fruition. 

"Well, clearly something in them wants us to escape. Surely they saw us try to break the wall down in our other room?" he mused, a smile playing upon his lips, "Maybe they thought that by putting us together, they'd be removing any need for us to escape."

His eyes glinted mischievously as he thought aloud to himself, "Well, I suppose they guessed wrong about that, huh?"

Her offer of the bed was sweet, but one he knew he'd decline. It seemed that he'd reacted to being thrust into his idea of hell by becoming much more of a gentleman than he was used to being. Besides, the poor girl deserved the bed, after what she'd been through. He hadn't been the one who was nearly shot, after all.

"As kind as that is, I'll be fine on the floor. You should take the bed, my back will be fine."

That was a lie, but the idea of taking the bed away from her and forcing her to sleep on the floor was unthinkable. Plus, he didn't want to make her uncomfortable by suggesting they share it; after all, they barely knew each other in reality. He certainly wouldn't want to share a bed with some random man he'd had maybe two proper conversations with, which was part of the reason why he'd forced Huxley to take the bed in the first place.

Ethan was glad that she was okay, or at least, that was what she'd said. He knew better than to push the issue; he didn't want her to pry into his feelings as much as she probably hoped he wouldn't pry into hers. In truth, neither of them were marginally okay, having been forced into this unbearable situation, but that went without saying. Just as long as she wasn't going to have a mental breakdown, they would be fine.

The pink haired girl arose from her seat, taking the opportunity to check out their surroundings. She confirmed his sighting of a toilet, which was a welcome relief after god knows how long of peeing in the shower. He really hated the thought that every time he chose to wash, he had been standing in Huxley's pee, or worse.

"Incredibly sexy," he agreed, "I can't believe our old rooms didn't have one - at least, mine didn't - considering how much worse the rest of this set up is."

It seemed she was more interested in the chest at the end of the bed, however, and he watched her inspect it.

“What crap do you think’s been left in here?”

He shrugged, "No clue. Hopefully it's clothes of some sort, I'm getting kind of sick of wearing this outfit all day every day. Try opening it?"

[Freya Alexander]

"Maybe they thought that by putting us together, they'd be removing any need for us to escape. Well, I suppose they guessed wrong about that, huh?" At that remark, Freya’s softened blue eyes met Ethan’s jade oculates, and glinted with something sharp and rather animalistic; the eyes of a fox scheming her next move. That hint of a smile on his lips. Oh, Ethan knew exactly what she was thinking. In reply – due to her reservations as to how close their captors were paying true attention to each of them – Freya’s eyebrow quirked mischievously, pursing her lips as her face darkened. It read: ‘Certainly, Ethan. Wrong, indeed.’

At the man’s rather gentlemanly effort of providing Freya with the bed, she waved his remark off with a flick of her hand, eyes narrowing in a warm humour. She certainly appreciated his kindness, but neither of them deserved to be thrust upon the floor. Considering it for a moment, she turned to him more directly this time:

“Look, I’m tiny enough to fit on the end. If you’re okay with it – we could just sleep top-to-tail,” she indicated with her hands, two fingers parallel to one another. “I barely move in my sleep, anyway. And it means no one’s lumbered with… the carpet.” Her nose crinkled at the sight of the grubby-looking floor, shuddering at the thought of what germs would be lingering on the fibres. “Only if you’re okay with it, of course!” She smiled, genuinely this time. It was a broad smile; like a child would ‘beam’ in delight.

Freya realised the pair had barely known one another, but there was a strange sense of trust she felt for Ethan. He seemed genuine, kind and whatnot. That was evident on the surface, though, there was this underlying feeling that he wasn’t a threat. A kinship for their predicament that she had to ponder over; whether if it were because of their history, closeness in age, or her own natural naivety. She was renown to trust too easily, but this felt raw and truthful. They had been thrust into the closest a human could experience hell, and yet found solace in one another’s antics. If putting their minds to escaping nullified the agony of waiting she had found to be the most torturous aspect of this whole experience, then she would have a pleasant time with Ethan.

She watched him briefly, and pondered over how well he was dealing with this; if he truly was taking things well. Hiding emotions appeared to also be his forte. Her smile wavered at the thought that he could be suffering, and just not telling her. Sadness prickled at the back of her mind, and her eyes fell in sympathy; she only wanted him to be okay. Though, as he responded to her ‘sexy’ retort, her face fixed itself once more and she snickered softly.

Turning attention back to the chest, she kicked it open. Perching the wooden cane back on the bed, Freya began rifling through the deep ravenous clutter of the chest.

“I washed my clothes in the shower but god, even that was pretty grim. Not sure if I want to be lounging around in my bra… uh… I mean, y’know,” she laughed, shaking her head at herself. “I’m all for ‘free the titty’ but there are lines.” Freya wiggled her eyebrows again, before bursting into laughter. “That’s when I know I’ve truly lost it.”

The girl had no idea what she was finding so funny. Perhaps actually finally losing herself, Freya hid her face behind the chest lid as she calmed, cursing under her breath. She wanted to be on good terms with the guy, not scare him off.

“So! Clothes… Something useful. Step right up, I’ll try and deliver!”

[Perception check: Freya rifled through the chest of clutter, trying to find something useful for the pair of them]

[Madge Baker]

ACTION ROLL: Freya rifled through the chest of clutter, trying to find something useful for the pair of them.

RESULT: 7 - most of the remnants of the items in the chest were either completely deformed to a point of being barely recognized as actual objects, some were broken and some were absolutely useless. Old paper sheets that crumbled under her touch, plastic knives, forks, some pieces of clothing but unfortunately those were way too small and torn to shreds - about the size of a napkin - to be properly used.

When suddenly her fingers have found something... soft. Gently she pulled the object from the pile of trash. It was a new big beautiful blue silk scarf. Still whole, just slightly dirty, probably shoved in here the last minute! Compared to the rest of the chest "treasures" this was definitely an odd find!

---

[!] Freya has found a blue silk scarf, but she has TOO many items right now and should give/throw away at least one.

[Ethan Kaul]

Clearly, Freya was unwilling to back down about the bed issue, and Ethan let out a soft sigh of defeat. Well, at least it meant she was comfortable around him, comfortable enough to top and tail with him in bed anyway. That would make it so much easier for them to coexist for however long they were stuck in this room. It seemed as though their kidnapper was moving them around on a rotation, but he had no idea how long it would be before he was put with his next roommate. It had felt like months, years, that he had been in this place, and with no way of seeing the outside world in his old room, he had no clue whether it had been day or night. In a way, they were lucky to have a view this time, even if it didn't give anything away about where they were. It meant that he could get into a good sleeping routine, at the very least.

"Fine," he conceded, a small smile forming on his lips, "We can top and tail, if you're comfortable with that. I don't want to make things awkward, seeing as how we're trapped in here together for the foreseeable future."

It wouldn't be so bad living with Freya, at least he hoped not. She was a kind girl, spirited too. Hopefully she'd be up for continuing his daily work outs, and he was sure she'd be interested in the (very rough) plan to escape. At some point Ethan would have to see if Sawyer was in the room next to them so they could continue to formulate their plan, and he'd definitely have to ask Freya if she had any special skills they could use. Right then, her cane seemed like it could come in handy, and he vaguely remembered her having a torch too, if she hadn't lost it yet.

“I washed my clothes in the shower but god, even that was pretty grim. Not sure if I want to be lounging around in my bra… uh… I mean, y’know. I’m all for ‘free the titty’ but there are lines.”

He chuckled softly at that remark. Obviously they would have to establish boundaries surrounding showering and the like. With Huxley, it had been easier because they were both men with a considerable age gap and so were mostly unbothered by a bit of nudity, even despite their awkward start, but he knew he would feel pretty awkward if Freya did indeed choose to "free the titty" around him when they barely knew each other. She probably felt the same about seeing his nakedness, and him seeing hers, so that was something they would need to discuss.

"I think I'm going to have to just shower in my clothes at this point, just to keep them even slightly clean," he replied, sighing again, "The cameras in the bathroom are rather disconcerting, so at least that'll cover me."

Ethan shuddered at the thought that some pervert could have a video of him showering. Not that he had anything to be ashamed of, but just the fact that images of his naked body were in somebody else's hands, and they could possibly be posted somewhere, ending his medical career before it even began. Then again, all the time he had already missed of college was sure to have the same effect all by itself. His parents would kill him for flunking out, if he somehow made it out of that hellhole anyway.

I wonder what my parents would say if I became a stripper... Too bad I can't dance.

He was broken out of his - slightly concerning - thoughts by Freya holding up something triumphantly. It looked like... a scarf of some sort?

"Fancy," he commented, scooching closer so he could have a look, "Looks pretty expensive, and new too. Think we should hold onto it?"

[Freya Alexander]

At the remark that Ethan planned to be so vigilant as to wash his clothes… with himself within them, Freya paused and poked her head over the chest’s lid, the spring of bright pink bouncing at her ears. She spluttered for a moment, considering it, before finally resolving to making a face of anguish. A few jokes sprung to mind, but Freya pursed her smirking lips and shook her head, emulating visually washing herself adorned in clothing.

She mused: “Bish, I’m washing me and my clothesssss,” referencing the Vine almost perfectly from pitch of voice, her caricature devolved back into quiet giggles as her head disappeared behind the chest once more. “Not a bad idea; but the thought of the rash you’d get if you let wet clothes dry on you sounds worse than a little bit of embarrassment, med-boy,” she added with just the hint of coy humour laced within the tone of her voice. She allowed a quiet moment for him to consider that when her fingers dragged over something… uncharacteristically delicate for the stock the big box of clutter seemed to be providing them.

Sleek and enticing, Freya pulled out a distinct silken scarf from its depths, the material a blissful down on her fingers. Mesmerised by it, a whiff of male cologne met her delicate nostrils, and the cogs of a memory churned with reckless abandon within her head. She stared at it for a moment or two, before perking up in surprise.

“Oh my god!” Exclaiming slightly too loud, she held up the scarf as the metaphorical lightbulb illuminated above her. “Cassim! This is Cassim’s! Only one man I know dresses as extravagantly as this. And that cologne…” She crinkled her nose again. “… Always made my eyes burn. Must be allergic or something…” She allowed the material to drape over her hands as she moulded it around her fingers, its enticing azure hue reflecting in the light.


Ethan approached from his position, commenting on its luxuriousness, to which Freya nodded in meek reply: “Looks pretty expensive, and new too. Think we should hold onto it?" Freya unfolded it until it seemed little more than a softened square of fabric. Holding it up in front of her, she allowed the scarf to flutter in the air, its pretty translucency letting most, if not all the light through.

“Knowing Cassim, it probably costs more than my rent,” she pondered, folding it up gently and passing it to Ethan. “Here. You wanted some more clothes, right? Would be a lovely cover-up for ya.” Freya winked, before easing the lid of the chest shut in a satisfying ‘THUMP!’. Ambling back over to the bed, Freya popped down next to Ethan, a neutral expression permeating her face; she emoted nothing in that moment. How easy it would be to relent to normality in a place such as this. They were unable to escape, so getting used to a level of routine would be simple enough.

If only that fact were true.

In truth, Freya was restless. So restless that she could barely sit still most days; for fears of becoming softened by repetition. Freya knew that to be vigilant was the most important trait to maintain when your life was on the line, but the waiting… the endless waiting. In some regards it was worse than knowing the truth. She didn’t know which hell she’d prefer.

“We need to try something again,” she murmured, barely above a whisper, for fears of their captor’s watchful eyes penetrating their very spirits. “The wall, the door… I can’t sit here doing nothing, Ethan.” In that moment she looked at him, her blue eyes heated with the flame of anger surging beneath them. Despite being so tiny, she looked taller, then; more at ease with herself. “I don’t want to relent,” she growled, looking past him as her eyes drifted into space, considering all the awful things that could happen to them. She wasn’t going to let anyone get hurt if she could help it. Shaking the feeling from her, she glanced down at her lap for a moment, considering what they could do, just briefly. Allowing her torso to tilt, the girl rested her head against Ethan’s shoulder as her voice fell silent.

Not quite wanting to impose a full hug upon the boy before asking, Freya simply allowed her body to rest against his, the silent meaning still evident despite her lack of words. It was a seek for comfort; for finding some solace in a rigid and perilous environment.

[Ethan Kaul]

Raising an eyebrow at her change in voice, Ethan supposed that Freya must be referencing something he didn't understand. All his time was spent studying and working, meaning that his knowledge of popular culture was, to be frank, pretty nonexistent. Still, he gave a short laugh, finding her amusement more funny than the actual words that were coming out of her mouth.

“Not a bad idea; but the thought of the rash you’d get if you let wet clothes dry on you sounds worse than a little bit of embarrassment, med-boy.”

He chuckled, "Perhaps you're right. I'm just thinking about your comfort, I highly doubt you want me walking around in my boxers."

Except, they weren't his boxers. Whoever it was that had furnished the place had also provided both him and Huxley with clean underwear in his previous room. He supposed that this room wouldn't have the same sort of luxury, considering the decline in quality, so he would have to wash his underwear every day in order to keep sanitary.

Great. If I'm going to wind up married in here, I'll probably meet my bride for the first time stinking like shit from wearing the same clothes for god knows how long. That's certainly one way to spark a romance.

Freya had clearly recognised the owner of the scarf almost immediately, a man named Cassim. His brow furrowed, had he been one of the men in the basement with them? He couldn't quite put a face to the name, but the pink-haired girl seemed to be certain about who it belonged to, so he took her word for it.

“Here. You wanted some more clothes, right? Would be a lovely cover-up for ya.”

Ethan laughed at that. Somehow, he didn't see the scarf as being able to cover anything, but her optimism was contagious, in a way

"Sure, I'll take it off your hands," he grinned, taking it from her as she moved to sit down next to him. The scarf certainly felt expensive to the touch, and he wondered how Cassim had lost it amongst all the clutter. Surely something of this value would not leave his sight, at least, it definitely wouldn't leave Ethan's. It really did seem unusual, but, whilst he was comfortably middle class, he didn't really have many items that cost as much as this scarf appeared to. He wasn't a materialistic man, preferring the simpler things in life, rather than the most luxurious, and so perhaps he viewed its worth differently from its owner.

Freya's expression, or rather, lack of it, was beginning to concern him. He knew all too well about what a "showface" looked like; the kind of expression he had practised over and over to perfection in order to mask his true feelings. Right now, she was performing a rather exceptional one, at least up until the moment she cracked.

“We need to try something again. The wall, the door… I can’t sit here doing nothing, Ethan. I don’t want to relent.”

He looked at her, "Then what do you suggest trying first? We could see if we have any neighbours that might be able to help us out. Someone like Sawyer could be useful, I was talking to her earlier before this whole move, and we've started to plan our escape. Very roughly, but any suggestions are welcome."

To his surprise, the girl rested her head on his shoulder. Unsure of how to react - should he put his arm around her? - he chose to allow a comfortable silence to envelop them until she decided to make any kind of movement towards a hug. Maybe all she needed right now was comfort, and that was something he was happy to provide. Lord knows she'd do the same for him, at least, he hoped so.

[Ethan takes the scarf from Freya]

[Freya Alexander]

Seemingly, the man had no clue as to what reference she was making, and was instantly scorned by his lack of Vine education; the utter audacity of not spending hours of wasted time watching the same Vine compilations that really ‘tickled my fancy’.

"…I highly doubt you want me walking around in my boxers,” Ethan remarked, which caused a benign quirk of Freya’s mouth to spread, forcing her to look away for fears of appearing inane. Perhaps it wasn’t the time for needless flirting, but in a regular moment Freya would have purred something on the cusp of being crude – in a particularly sweet voice, before acting as if she had done nothing of the sort. For childish playfulness, she had a certain edge to her humour that forced people to render her silly, or that she didn’t know any better. If only they knew of her hyper-awareness…

Ethan took the scarf happily, likely unaware just what type of man Cassim was. To have lost that, likely would be losing upwards of thousands, unfathomable sums of money. Freya and her family were not treading the line of being rich, and they would no less remark of such a thing, nor even think it. They lived a very comfortable life. She felt lucky that her dads were able to take her abroad even occasionally. The thought of being able to purchase so materialistic and expensive seemed to be something short of absurdity. But, Cassim was Cassim, and Freya was truly indebted to the man. She’d never squander his character for something so small.

Feeling his eyes on her, Freya matched the gaze, noting Ethan’s concern, confusingly. And then he mentioned Sawyer. At the name of her, Freya’s eyes fell, and her entire face crumpled, if only fleetingly; the thought that her ex-girlfriend was in the same situation as her an idea she disliked to dwell upon. But it seemed the pair had been sculpting the basis of a plan to escape, in true Sawyer fashion. The pink-haired girl’s chest ached at that, missing her dearly. Though they had cut off their relationship rather quickly, there was never any bad blood between the two women. In truth, Freya adored her; regarding her and their little group as some of the happiest times she’s ever experienced. Knowing, now, that they were all a broad stroke away from her, yet seemingly so distant…

Any suggestions to escape? Well, that was the thing. Certainly, her boldness had been a topic of much internal discourse and cursing, Freya had entirely accumulated no plan. She only pretended most of the time, and it often ended in certain embarrassment, as she considered the day they all awoke.

“I… I don’t know if I’m honest. And even if we did get out, or through; what would we do? It’s clear our little attempted escapade in the last room is coming back to bite our asses. I mean, look at the food,” She scowled at the clearly-stale bread sitting in the corner. That would no less support half of Freya, never mind a fit young man that Ethan was. Perhaps she could share her own ration if he needed it of course…

“What about the door? Failing that, we could look back at the walls. This place doesn’t seem nearly as sturdy as our last room. I suppose our plan is to find some form of communication to the outside world. A note? And what have they done with our phones?” Freya speculated, her head still resting upon his arm. Ethan seemed… comfortable with it? Though his body didn’t tense, she worried about spooking the poor man. Talk about the cruder details of having to adjust to an awkward routine aside, she really didn’t want him to feel unease with her. Sliding her arm around him, Freya paused momentarily, before squeezing gently. The human contact was what she needed.

A VERY hug-orientated person in the realm of normality, the lack of human contact was what was riling Freya up the most. Just – even if it were selfish – holding Ethan… oh god, what was she doing? Pulling back, Freya looked away from him in embarrassment, pushing the hair from her eyes. “Sorry…” she whispered, tucking her knees up into her chest to appear as small as possible.

Looking away, Freya began as though nothing had happened, though her smile was strained once again. “Right… yes. Escape… Yes.” Freya looked up at the door. “What’s our next move?”

[Ethan Kaul]

Freya was visibly taken aback at his lack of knowledge of her strange references, but honestly, she shouldn't be surprised, knowing his future career. Ethan had spent the past few years immersed in medical textbooks and surrounded by doctors who certainly wouldn't ask a patient to "free the titty" when about to give a breast examination. And, as for the joke about washing herself and her clothes... he had no clue. Probably something from TikTok, which he'd heard from Keiari was notoriously addictive, giving him less of a reason to download it. He needed to focus on his studies, after all, not numb his brain with mindless videos about laundry and the like.

He'd half expected her to comment on his remark about not wanting to walk around half naked, but other than looking away from him with a twitch of her lips she hadn't spoken, brushing it aside. That was good at least; if her sober flirting was anything like it was when drunk, it was probably best she didn't comment. There was, however, a significant change in her demeanour at the mention of Sawyer, and he speculated internally about whether it was something to do with the nature of their breakup, or simply because she was concerned for her well being in there. That was, if they had even broken up. He couldn't recall a mention of it, but their near-sexual experience had been fairly recent, and Freya didn't come across as the cheating type. Ethan wondered whether to reassure her that Sawyer was alright, at least, she had seemed to be from their conversation, but thought it best not to stay on that topic, not wanting to upset her.

“What about the door? Failing that, we could look back at the walls. This place doesn’t seem nearly as sturdy as our last room. I suppose our plan is to find some form of communication to the outside world. A note? And what have they done with our phones?”

"Probably thrown them away, or sold them by now," he sighed. It wasn't that he really cared for the loss of any of the contacts in his phone - they were either family members who didn't care about him unless he was achieving something, ex-flings and relationships, or superficial friendships that he didn't mind losing, All he wanted to be able to do was call his school and sort out his absence, or ring the police and have them storm the place and free them all. If only...

"The walls might be a start. Never know, we could make that hole now," he teased, looking over at her, "Not that we really need it, now that we're both in here together."

He managed to contain his surprise as he felt her thin arm slip around him, a gesture which he reciprocated by wrapping his arm around her shoulder. Ethan wasn't about to get too touchy-feely - affection was not something he'd ever really cared for - but this would do.  She, however, seemed almost embarrassed by it, pulling away and murmuring her apology.

"It's okay," he shrugged nonchalantly, "Nothing to be sorry for."

In his eyes, there wasn't. She'd only half-hugged him anyway, it wasn't like she'd done anything scandalous that would make him uncomfortable. It was normal to want some form of human contact after going so long without it, and even though he was usually touch averse, he'd found it nice having something that resembled a hug after keeping his distance from Huxley following the whole spooning incident.

“Right… yes. Escape… Yes. What’s our next move?”

He thought for a moment.

"Before we sort that out, did you want a hug?"

He was concerned his request would make her feel uncomfortable, and hoped he hadn't read the situation wrong. He genuinely didn't mean anything by it, other than to make her feel a little bit better.

"If not then forget I said anything. It just seemed like you needed one."

[Freya Alexander]

Ethan seemed – frankly – undeterred by Freya’s advancement towards a hug. At his remark about making a hole she had smiled and nodded, though it wavered, worry rushing through her. What if this was a test? Putting them together, and in such a terrible living space… Her eyes scanned the room, resting on their ‘food’ for the day, and she flinched in disgust. He… slipped his arm around her in reciprocation. She had paused for a moment before drawing away, not wishing to make him uncomfortable.

"Nothing to be sorry for."

She smiled meekly at that, just the corner of her mouth twitching into something broader. But it was one of the shyer reflexes she had fallen into; very much engaging in the ‘I’m small and feeble, please don’t hurt me’ persona she had become well accustomed to adopting. If the world saw her as such, she may as well fall in line; a small aphorism some of the people she’d met tended to explain to her. No point trying to be a dragon when you’re the size of a cat.

"Before we sort that out, did you want a hug?"

What, now? That surprised her. Head snapping up in surprise, Freya regarded his level gaze with her own gentle blue eyes, trying to distinguish if the boy was… making fun of her? It wouldn’t have been the first time she trusted someone, and they took advantage of that. As such, Freya’s vulnerability spiked its reflexive guard as she drew back a step, head tilted away from him. "If not then forget I said anything. It just seemed like you needed one." Her face softened at that. For one, her initial assessment of Ethan Kaul seemed to be a factual one. He was no threat, and quite the opposite. He was just… rather lovely to her. Despite a general reservation towards affection, his approach to her was that of genuine kindness.

Still unsure, Freya took a tentative step towards him, hands hovering at her middle. She opened her mouth to speak, before closing it, knowing she’d likely do more harm than good.

Another heartbeat, a second to breathe… before Freya wrapped herself around him. Only really reaching his chest, she buried her face into Ethan’s shirt, trembling ever so slightly, though she’d be hard-pressed to say why. Exhaling a shuddering breath she didn’t know she was holding, the girl relaxed into his torso, squeezing her eyes shut as she held him. She knew she needed it, so badly and hoped, prayed that he was on some level enjoying it as well.

The emotional fatigue seemed to hit her there; the brunt of it all. It was well and good showing face to Hannah, but three weeks of holding most of it together was exhausting. She knew she had to be stronger for others; too stubborn to let herself get carried in such a situation. Perhaps it was her pride, or her sheer lack of willingness to open up, but she knew – whilst in Ethan’s arms – that she was vulnerable, and she was scared beyond all measurable endurance that could be healthy for her.

“Thank you,” she murmured softly, as she let her arms slip from him for the last time. She met his gaze once more, that soft, coy smile spreading over her lips in grateful approach. “Y-You give pretty good hugs,” she laughed shakily, forcing her hand through her hair once more, before settling with fiddling with her glasses, trying with all her might to remove a stain that just wasn’t there.

[Ethan Kaul]

At his initial question, Freya looked at Ethan, confusion written all over her face, moving away from him slightly. Crap, he'd made her feel awkward. Way to go Ethan. His inability to read her emotions had no doubt made sure that it would be weird between them for however long they were stuck there, and he could feel guilt settling in the pit of his stomach at the worried expression in her eyes.

And then, as he continued to reassure her that she could just ignore his request, her face began to soften. Before he could even register what was happening, Freya was taking a tentative step closer, suddenly wrapping her arms around him. His eyes widened in surprise, not expecting that considering her first reaction, but Ethan immediately pulled her closer, hugging her tightly. Feeling her tremble in his arms, he gently rubbed her back, trying to comfort her. It seemed that she too had been bottling up her emotions, and that perhaps she needed this hug more than she even realised. Well, he was happy to provide if it meant that she could release some of the stress from her body. Freya had been through a lot in such a short amount of time, certainly more than he had, and Ethan knew that if he had been in some sick game like that, he would need some comfort too.

He squeezed her tightly once more before they both pulled away.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, looking up at him. He shrugged.

"Anytime. Like I said before, you can come to me if you need anything. Talking, hugging, whatever. I get what it's like to try and seem brave in front of people, but sooner or later you need to let those feelings out."

When did he become a therapist? Apparently two or so weeks in a room with Huxley could do that to you. Still, he meant every word. Being in a place like this was exhausting, and choosing not to have any emotional release could not be healthy for anyone, even him. 

 “Y-You give pretty good hugs.”

He chuckled, "So do you. I'm not usually a fan of hugs, but you're clearly a professional at giving them."

She was clearly still nervous, so he decided that perhaps the next thing to do was to see what they could do to escape. That was their priority, after all, and if Sawyer or Huxley was nearby, it would be good to have something to update them on.

"Right! Let's make a plan of action. You wanted to look around for something, right? Let's do that."

Ethan moved towards the door, choosing that as the first place to start searching. Better to start from the beginning, anyway.

[PERCEPTION CHECK: Ethan looks around the room for anything that might be of some use]

[Fate]

PERCEPTION CHECK: Ethan looks around the room for anything that might be of some use.

RESULT: 2 - Unfortunately, Ethan didn't find anything useful.