Terms of Employment [TTW with Room 8/Room 9 || TAG: Noah]

[Dorian F. Blund]

His hands passed through his face as he stared at his appearance in the mirror, trying to make abstraction of his hair. Every time that was what his eyes would look at first, and it displeased him greatly. All he wanted to focus on was keeping himself groomed and clean; he hated the very thought of looking an unkempt mess. Whatever crazy game he would get thrown into eventually, he would take on with class.

As he was finishing up, he looked at the wall on the opposite side of the bathroom door, pondering. In his old room, after entering contact with Katherine, he’d tried knocking on the other walls of the room, to no result. It seemed there were no other people around them, but he had yet to try this time around. If they’d had neighbors last time, surely it was safe to assume they would have more now, wouldn’t it?

Dorian lowered his towel to the side to dry, and walked towards the wall. Well, he didn’t lose anything for trying. With luck, he might find someone he knew, or discover something useful. His decision made, Dorian knocked three loud times, before calling out.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

[Noah Hernandez]

Time was weird in this place. With the windows blocked off he could never tell if it was night or day, dawn or dusk. How long it’s even been. Were people looking him? His siblings must’ve been worried sick. Roseline was probably worried sick. The unknown…how terrifying it could be for them. Not knowing if he was alive. Yet he wasn’t in much of a different situation. The unknown also haunted him.

Noah played with the small key in his hands, its existence alone plaguing questions in his mind. It’s like it was taunting him in it’s very presence. He merely sighed, exhausted. He was just so exhausted.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

It was a pattern at this point, for knocks from the wall to break him out of his thought process. He turned around the face the wall. Before he could say anything, another sound came to life.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” a familiar voice said.

Was that…

“Dorian? Is that you?” Noah asked. Out of all the people he didn’t expect to see again, it was most definitely his former employer. Being a man from a wealthy family, his first assumption was that he was one of the first people to either be put to marriage or in one of those horrible survival games. If the kidnapper even cared about any of those things…

[Dorian F. Blund]

Very interestingly, not only someone answered, but they did so very quickly; Dorian took a mental note of checking the other walls of his room later, apparently having neighbors was going to be a pattern in this place. The real kicker, however, was that the voice was familiar, and one of someone he knew was captive as well.

“Mr Hernandez?” He replied back, with a mix of interest and surprise. He’d seen and freed him in the basement, so his presence was known for sure; but what he remembered now was the wedding. When he’d asked Katherine if this “Noah” she was talking was Mr Hernandez, she hadn’t answered, perhaps not knowing his last name, and so he’d been left with the doubt of whether they were the same person, or if there were simply more than one Noah here. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to find out firsthand. “It is me, I am fine. I am glad to see you’re alive. Are you alright? I have heard… some macabre things happened.” And saw some with my own eyes. “Are you unharmed?”

[Noah Hernandez]

“Yes yes…I’m alright.” Noah replied. He thought about Dorian’s words for a moment. Macabre things. The wedding he must mean surely, perhaps Hannah or Katherine had informed him about it. Though he could also be talking about the survival game, or maybe even both. Who knows at this point. In fact considering his limited knowledge and how he hasn’t talked to very many people, perhaps other things have occurred and he didn’t even realize. Maybe Dorian HAS experienced some sort of horrible events and Noah and his recently made allies were completely oblivious to it.

“Dorian, what macabre things do you speak of specifically? I know I have gone through my own experiences, but perhaps you can enlighten me on what this has been like for you,” the architect asked.

[Dorian F. Blund]

Dorian recoiled, visibly bothered, though Noah wouldn’t be able to see it. Being separated by a wall had its advantages – he didn’t need to be so careful with his body language. Still, the problem remained: he had hoped his employee would not return his question against him quite so soon, so Dorian could get a grasp on what other people knew before divulging too much information, for a rather simple reason.

How much should he share about Kamala’s death? He did not wish to advertise her demise to all, that would be doing her memory a disservice; yet, his priority was to get out there, and for that, he needed allies, and for people to be on their toes. So far, those he’d met had all known about mind games, cruel events, and even physical punishments in cases of misbehaviors; but no one had died, and this had reassured them. He couldn’t let them get too comfortable; danger here was real, and everyone needed to be aware of that, the sooner the better. Still, he couldn’t just open up with that, even knowing that Noah was a rather rational man and probably wouldn’t freak out; at least, not too openly.

“Well, last week or so, miss Katherine and I talked through a wall like we are doing now, and she shared with me news of a “game” she was forced to take part of, as well as an arranged wedding between miss Hannah and a man named Geoff. She told me that there was another witness there called Noah; since she could not tell me his last name, I could only presume it was you, though I do not know if you are the only Noah here. Was I correct in my assumption?” he asked, before quickly adding. “Miss Katherine is with me right now, by the way. She is fine, if not a bit shaken. Would you happen to have a roommate with you as well?” There was a short pause, during which Dorian seemed hesitant. He always tried to be attentive and polite, but caring openly for people did not come as second nature to him; and yet, he found himself worrying for people more and more lately… including for his architect’s wellbeing. “….. Katherine told me that you got electrocuted pretty badly. I hope that it… didn’t leave too bad of a mark.”

Should he move on to the next subject? He did not wish to rush things, but frankly, he had no idea how much time they had together. For all he knew, he, or Noah, or both, could be gassed and thrown into some twisted competition at any given moment. He did not wish to waste this opportunity.

“… I have no idea if you got involved in any other shenanigans ever since, though I truly hope not. But I happen to have some bad news. … One of my friend has died recently. I do not know how, or why, but I saw her body. I am afraid whatever is happening here is… more serious than silly games and forced weddings. People are in genuine danger. I just… wanted you to be prepared for the worse.”

[Noah Hernandez]

Noah listened quietly as Dorian explained. Seems like he didn’t experience anything himself, and was only told about the same things Noah was either informed of or had experienced first hand. The wedding…goodness it felt like it had been a while since he had experienced that. Even though it was probably only something to have occurred no less than a week ago, but he couldn’t be sure. There was no well to tell time here. If there was, he hadn’t bothered to put in the effort to figure it out.

The architect stiffened a little bit when he heard Katherine was with Dorian, still a tad embarrassed about their little incident, but he was glad to know that she was safe. He remembered the young model getting her own set of injuries, and could only hope she was safe after their terrible experience.

“Would you happen to have a roommate with you as well?” He heard Dorian ask.

“Ah yes. Her name is Kim, I think she’s around Miss Sallow’s age. As far as I know she doesn’t have any physical injuries, however she is very concerned for her friends it would seem,” Noah informed. He honestly felt bad for his new roommate. She wasn’t super talkative and has been pretty emotional. Not like he didn’t feel those same things, he just…didn’t want to show it.

Their brief pause was broken by Dorian’s next asking. “….Katherine told me you got electrocuted pretty badly. I hope that it…didn’t leave too bad of a mark.”

The architect was a little surprise at the heir’s concern. It’s not like the two were friends, they hardly knew each other outside of their work acquaintance relationship. He couldn’t deny it was a little comforting knowing someone cared, yet he wished Dorian wouldn’t focus on him. He should be worried about his own wellbeing, or the wellbeing of others he knows personally. Not someone he hired and worked with for a short period of time!

“Uh…Miss Sallow is exaggerating the experience, it wasn’t as bad as it probably appeared to her. I am fine, but I appreciate the concern,” Noah said truthfully. His minor wounds hardly hurt anymore, what with the cut on his hand almost being nothing but an outline and the bruises from the fall slowly fading away.

There was another pause, and then Dorian’s next words came about. “….I have no idea if you got involved in any other shenanigans ever since, though I truly hope not. But I happen to have some bad news….One of my friends has died recently.”

The heir’s words went static after that. Noah could feel that feeling again. His chest closing up, the sound of his heartbeat growing loud in his ears, the nausea setting into place. His thoughts were racing now.

What? Someone was dead? Someone died? Someone was killed!? When did this happen? How did this happen!?

He heard a little clank on the hardwood floor. His eyes shifted to the ground, where he saw the little key against his leg. He was shaking so much that it must’ve slipped out of his hand. The architect stared at it for long while, a horrible realization coming to him. He thought these were just games, a sick twisted version of some messed up survival games and the winners would get married. But now it’s worse than he imagined. Oh god…

I was talking to a murderer

“Dorian…” Noah’s voice was shaky and unstable, he could hardly comprehend the information let alone say it out loud. “I…I’m so sorry to hear that.”

He paused. Should he say something? He realize he hadn’t actually told anyone yet. But he should say something…someone needed to know. And despite them hardly knowing each other, he did trust Dorian. He couldn’t figure out any reason why he shouldn’t.

Noah’s voice broke through his fearful state, “Dorian…I must inform you…I…I can’t be all that sure….but….I think I…I talked to our kidnapper.”

[Dorian F. Blund]

“Kim”. Though he tried to think for a while, he couldn’t associate a face to that name. He must not have interacted with her in the basement, nor did he know her from the outside. At this point he still couldn’t figure out whether having familiar people here was a good or bad thing. Still, he made a mental note to remember her name.

“Uh…Miss Sallow is exaggerating the experience, it wasn’t as bad as it probably appeared to her. I am fine, but I appreciate the concern.”

Uh. Mr Hernandez seemed… embarrassed? To answer his question. Or perhaps, to have been asked this question in the first place. They were by no mean close, professional relationships being what they were, but was it really so out of place for him to ask his employee how he was holding up in a madhouse? He would assume not. Hopefully Noah did not think he was stepping out of line. “Either way, I am simply glad to hear that you are unharmed.”

Then, everything went silent. At the mention of death, Mr Hernandez went shockingly quiet, leaving Dorian to lean in closer to try and perceive anything coming from his side. He thought he heard the distant, muffled sound of something falling, but it might just be his ears playing tricks on him. “Mr Hernandez, are you alright?” he asked, equally confused and worried. If something had indeed fallen, it was too small to have injured him, but what if the news had caused Noah to faint? No, surely he would have heard his body hit the floor.

He must be losing his temper. He’d spoken to him with the trust that he would have the emotional maturity to take such news and make the best of them, but perhaps he’d overestimated him; he was just an architect, after all, and a calm and peaceful one at that; not someone trained from youth to adapt to the worst of situations. Maybe this was just too much for him. Maybe he shouldn’t have dropped it on him like that.

“Dorian… I…I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Finally, words; the kind Dorian had heard countless times before. Condolences, sympathy, empty palavers that were never enough to accomplish what they were meant to do; he’d received them aplenty when he became a widower, and they’d lost all meaning to him. He hadn’t expected to get back in this situation so soon, and he could feel his body become tense again at the memory; he wanted to quickly brush it off, tell him that it was fine, not his fault, what you’re supposed to reply in that case and move on from the subject. But something in Noah’s behavior told him that there was more to it than that. The man appeared… personally upset. Did he know Kamala, or was he just much more empathetic than he had pictured him to be?

“Dorian…” he was speaking again, with the same tremolo in his voice, and the heir braced promptly braced himself. He had the strong, dreadful feeling that what was to come would be huge. “I must inform you…I…I can’t be all that sure….but….I think I…I talked to our kidnapper.”

“…….”

It took many seconds for the information to process, and even more for him to accept he had heard right. Whatever he had expected Noah to tell him… wasn’t this, not by a long shot.

“Why…” Dorian started, then immediately silenced himself. “why” was always the first question to come to someone’s mind in a situation like this: why did you speak to them? Why did THEY speak to YOU? He was just an architect. A normal citizen. Why start contact with him, when they could have spoken to someone of higher status? He’d already determined weeks ago that these people were senseless and crazy, but it never ceased to astonish him how little sense their actions made. But no, he needed to be smart about this, ask the right questions, and before Noah was either spooked or silenced by force. “… What about that person makes you think it was them, and what makes you think it might not be?” this was the first, most important one. He’d always had the feeling that whenever they would meet the brain behind this whole operation, unless they were actively trying to hide their identity, their rank would be clear right away. Yet, Noah seemed strangely hesitant. Had they hidden themselves as a fellow captive? “What did they want from you, and what did they say?” this was arguably the most pressing matter, but also the one he knew he needed to lead up to. And finally…

….

“… did they do anything to you?” They’d spoken about this already, and Noah had sworn twice to be fine; yet, Dorian simply couldn’t shake this bad feeling. The architect was clearly deeply shaken by this encounter, and from what he had heard until now, these games and events were neither uneventful nor pleasant. Something bad must have happened somehow, and… He couldn’t prevent his sudden worry to manifest itself. One person had died, many had been punished and electrocuted; he did not want his architect to be the next one on the list. For all he knew, he might be here by association, because he had the bad luck of being his employee. Dorian would not forgive himself if he was injured or killed, not on his watch.

[Noah Hernandez]

“Why…”

After a long moment of silence, that was the first thing Noah heard his employer say, giving him the impression that the two were in the same mindset.

Why.

Why him? Why’d she contact him, try to talk to him? Why did she want to speak to him at all? What did she want from him? Why did she want to see his key? To know the color of his hair? Why was he stupid enough to tell her name.

Why why why why WHY

All of those questions, all of those concerns, all of the paranoia that he managed to push down for days came rushing over him like a wave coming crashing down and slamming him into the rocks on the shoreline. It was sudden, it was overwhelming, and it made him physically ill. The problem was too big to avoid anymore. It wasn’t about him talking to his kidnapper, it was now about him interacting with a murderer. How could he be so foolish? To think that just because the woman gave off such an innocent presence that there was more to the story? No, of course there wasn’t! Humans manipulate each other all the time, and he’s no exception. Of course she would put up of a facade in order for him to briefly put down his walls. What a fool he was. What an idiot he was.

“…What about that person makes you think it was then, and what makes you think it might not be?” Dorian asked, breaking the silence between them.

“I…well…she…she had the same voice…from the basement. A-and when I was at the wedding ceremony…there was a voice over a load speaker giving us…instructions,” Noah tried to word it through his shaking, but it wasn’t easy, he could still feel himself stumbling over almost every syllable.

“What did they want from you, and what did they say?”

“I…” The architect couldn’t even formulate a sentence from that question. What did she want from him? As far as he knew…nothing.

“….did they do anything to you?”

The heir’s concern helped Noah snap back to reality, out of this panic attack he had found himself trapped in, marking the second time Dorian went out of his way to ask about Noah’s well being. But this time the architect could understand why Dorian would be concerned, since he imagined himself as a stuttering mess. Anyone in that state couldn’t be in a good mental or physical place. Finally, Noah started to take deep breathes. Controlling himself, concentrating on the moment, not his worries. His worries weren’t going to fix anything, only anticipate a potential downfall. But he didn’t want to fall. Not in this place.

“No,” he finally answered, “She didn’t. Though I would not be surprised if she had if she wanted the information she requested from me that desperately…but instead I foolishly obliged.”

The architect observed the room for a second, and then pressed himself against the wall, keeping his voice at a low volume. “I had discovered a key where me, Ms Hannah, Geoff, and Ms Sallow were being held captive for the...ceremony is what I suppose you can call it. Our kidnapper...she had asked me to see it. I did as she insisted but....”

He paused, looking at the key in his hand, reliving the memory in his head. Still so confused. “....she gave it back to me.”

[Dorian F. Blund]

The voice from the basement. Katherine had claimed she wasn’t sure if they were the same as the one officiating the wedding, but Noah was implying that he was rather certain. Dorian would like to say he remembered it clearly, but the reality was that, if he heard it speaking walking down the street, he doubted he would ever recognize it, with how little he’d heard it. A sentence, barely three words, sputtered and rushed through the speakers. He hadn’t had much time to think it over back then, but the person had seemed… almost panicked. Though, he supposed that was… reasonable, if them trying to escape had not been part of their plan or another game.

However, he was in no condition to walk down the streets; he was locked up, with about 30 people from what he could tell, and the number of voices he needed to tell apart had seriously lowered. Perhaps he would be able to recognize her if needed.

For now, the voice he needed to truly worry about was being suspiciously silent, and Dorian leaned even closer, trying to listen as much as he could. Maybe Noah was simply trying to gather his thoughts… or something was happening to him. Maybe their kidnapper was actually in the room with him, giving him instructions on what to do and say.
No, that wasn’t what this felt like. His attitude, the way he was struggling to form sentences… was this heavy breathing he could hear? He couldn’t be sure, but…
He’s panicking.

The realization came to him as perhaps more of a surprise than it should have. This entire situation was crazy, and god knew what kind of person their captor was up-close? No wonder he was scared. And still, Dorian found himself widening his eyes. Noah was… he was a serious, grounded, smart man. Incredibly easy to work with, efficient at his job, intuitive and usually one step ahead. They had never seen each other outside of a professional environment, but Dorian had a tendency to judge people by how good they were at their tasks, and Noah passed his qualifications. Yet, now… now, he seemed lost, and frightened, and Dorian simply did not know how to respond to that. How do you comfort someone you did not know would need comfort? How do you support someone you thought you could rely on?

“Breathe.” The order came out naturally to his lips. He couldn’t have Noah hyperventilating now, when there was no way for him, or his roommate, probably, to help him was anything to happen to his health.

Whether of his own volition or as a reaction to his command, Noah seemed to catch himself. All he could do was stay close, trying to keep his attention on him, unsure what to do. This was way out of his own comfort zone. Plus, he had a feeling that every time he tried to ask the architect about his well-being, he got either uncomfortable or embarrassed, and that would surely not help them now. Then, words came again, and the heir remained quiet, taking it all in.

Him claiming that he “obliged” was momentarily worrisome, as he wondered what he could have possibly been asked to do by this “woman” (perhaps this was sexist thinking, but he still had a hard time believing that the person behind all of this was this young sounding lady. And whether it was her or not, she surely had associates). His answer… was thankfully underwhelming: he had apparently found a key and had been asked for it back… before receiving it again.

Dorian subconsciously raised his hand towards the inner pocket of his vest, right above his heart. It had become a reflex, the past two years, for him to gently touch the spot whenever he was nervous and in need of reassurance, the feeling of his wedding ring under the fabric bringing him a peace he did not have the emotional maturity required to rationalize, but that he appreciated nonetheless. Now, the trinket had been taken from him, but if he didn’t think too hard, he could pretend that the key Freya had given him, and that he had kept hidden all this time in the hope it would prove itself useful one day, was in fact his lost amulet. Ah. Funny how a mature man like him, supposedly tough and callous as he was, relied so heavily on women’s gifts for comfort.

These last two weeks, he couldn’t have helped but wonder, why did they let him keep it? They’d searched him thoroughly enough in the past to take all that he was carrying; yet, hadn’t even bothered to check his pockets before leaving him in his rooms twice? And something he could use for a possible escape, besides. He had stopped himself from mentioning it to anyone in the hopes that if their captors did not know, they would not find out if the cameras were equipped with microphones. Yet, now…

“… Maybe they were testing you. To see if you would obey or rebel.” Maybe he had past the trial; if Katherine’s hierarchy theory was true, then Noah had not been “punished” by being sent to a worse room, at least as far as he could tell. And truly, what other reason could there be? “Maybe that key doesn’t even open anything at all.”

But mine does. He knew it. He had seen Freya use it. From the voice’s alarm in the basement, their escape was not planned, so it had not been a trick – thank God, too, because the idea of having to start doubting Freya bothered him more than he could tell. A sudden feeling of dread washed over him: what if he was being tested too? What if They knew he had that key this entire time, and were waiting for him to come forth and give it to them willingly as a sign of good faith? What if he was failing a game he didn’t even know he was playing?

The man closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. He could not succumb to confusion now; he needed to stay alert, but overthinking had never done him any good.

“… Mr Hernandez.” His name came out of his mouth quickly, as if Dorian wanted to speak it before he could regret it. Instinctively he positioned himself with the room’s camera at his back so that no one could read his lips, and he lowered his voice, hoping that it would not be heard by anyone but Noah. “I have a key with me too, in my vest. It opens the door of the small storage room that I went in when we separated into teams in the basement. I have no idea why I still have it either, but…” he swallowed. “If anything was to happen to me, and you were to… come in contact with me post-mortem, please take it. It might give you the slightest advantage of escape in the future, were you to be locked there.”

With that Dorian lowered his head, trying to ignore the displeasing situation of being watched. He had no way of knowing if speaking those words out loud was a mistake, but he’d felt the need to say it. If he didn’t make it out, others should, and Noah was one of those he hoped would find their way back home. He hoped he could trust him with any helpful information without it backstabbing him in the future.

He wanted to change the subject, however, and his thoughts went back to their captor. Yes, that’s who he should be focusing on right now, not himself.

“That woman… did you see her? Did she visit you in your room, or did she take you somewhere else? Could you describe her to me?” He took a small pause, organizing his thoughts. “… did she say or do anything else to you, apart from briefly taking that key?”

[Noah Hernandez]

A test. Dorian had suggested a test, that they were testing him. It didn’t sound crazy, in fact Noah himself put the idea out there for Geoff as they swapped theories about their kidnapper’s games. A strategy to see who was best fit, or was “lucky” enough, to survive their games and their prize to be a long lasting relationship with a person they hardly knew. Perhaps Dorian was right, that the trust his gave Nameless wasn’t trust at all, but showing his obedience towards her. However, it was the last part of the heir’s statement that he had a hard time trying to puzzle together.

“Maybe that key doesn’t even open anything at all.”

Then…why let him keep it? What was the point? To the kidnapper, this little object could still potentially be useful to him at some point, didn’t it feel like it was at least a little risky keep it? And even so…he kept asking himself the same question. Why did he still have it? He’s been holding on tight to it for a while, never being able to have it leave his side for more than a few seconds. He found it so utterly useless! What could it do to help him? Surely nothing! Yet he couldn’t bear to get rid of it, something screaming at the back of his head not too. Especially after what he went through with Nameless. Her letting him keep it…that meant something did it not? But what?

This one conversation with his kidnapper was splitting his brain in two. How she presented herself to him personally and how she presented herself in these events. She was clearly willing to go so far as to murder people, something that frightened him to his core. Because if she was capable of those kind of heinous acts, then what did that mean for him? What did her showing him trust and kindness symbolize? There’s something he’s missing here, he’s sure of it. She clearly has some sort of view of him that causes her to act differently.

But why?

Why me?

“…Mr. Hernandez,” Dorian spoke, lowering his own voice a bit, “I have a key with me too, in my vest. It opens the door of the small storage room that I went in when we separated into teams in the basement. I have no idea why I still have it either, but…if anything was to happen to me, and you were to… come in contact with me post-mortem, please take it. It might give you the slightest advantage of escape in the future, were you to be locked there.”

Noah held his breath again, but not out of fear…but of shock. Out of all the people here that Dorian was possibly familiar with…he trusted him? It felt a bit nonsensical, almost unorthodox, yet the architect, in his confusion, felt a sense of comfort to the notion. Even though his current expression (though Dorian couldn’t see) showed his baffled state. It was a hard notion to comprehend, truly it was. This level of trust hasn’t been offered to him in years. He had to admit, it wasn’t a bad feeling.

“Thank you, Dorian.”

“That woman…did you see her? Did she visit you in your room, or did she take you somewhere else? Could describe her to me?” The rapid fire questions made Noah a tad startled, but he quickly regained himself.

“I do not know her face, only her voice. It was…odd. At the ceremony, she was very demanding. Threatening us if we did not heed her commands. However, when sparking a conversation with me…she was very gentle and well mannered,” Noah took a pause, before speaking again. “Dorian…it’s almost like they were two completely different people.”

“…did she say or do anything else to you, apart from briefly taking that key?”

“Yes…she, strangely, asked me for my hair color. I couldn’t begin to fathom why.” There was another pause, and then came a deep breath. “I….I also gave her….my name.”

[Dorian F. Blund]

“Thank you, Dorian.”

He nodded, perhaps more to himself than to Noah, only vaguely aware that he could not see him anyway. He had said what he needed, and he was glad that the architect had accepted his offer; he would have to trust that was all they needed for now. There were no more words required.

“I do not know her face, only her voice.”

That… was a bit unexpected, but perhaps less than he should have thought. Of course – one could recognize a voice, but if you couldn’t recognize your aggressor’s face in a line-up, was a testimony truly useful? Plus, there were ways to modify one’s voice; she probably simply wouldn’t want her identity known; for all they knew, perhaps they’d met her already, maybe even in the basement. She couldn’t risk it. As for the change of attitude…

“That doesn’t really seem that far-fetched to me. Changing one’s behavior based on who you’re speaking to, the situation, or what you want to get, is a valuable skill. Perhaps she believed she could get something out of you easier if she acted nice.” After all, putting on a façade depending on your interlocutor was something he was used to do. Some people reacted better to politeness and niceties; others needed you to play rough. Of course, it would have been so much easier for him to tell if he had seen her switch of personalities for himself; perhaps he could have seen the cracks in the armor. But for now, and trusting only what he was told… he could just as easily believe she was simply a great manipulator. “Of course, there is always the possibility of her being forced to do what she does, or simply her taking a personal liking to one of her prisoners, in this case you.” What was the exact opposite of Stockholm syndrome – Lime? Lima? He couldn’t quite recall; but considering the threat of forced weddings, Noah being engaged to their captor might be a new worry for them to entertain. Not that he would tell him that now.

“…she, strangely, asked me for my hair color. I couldn’t begin to fathom why. ….I also gave her….my name.”

His hair color? How random. Surely if she was the one who had kidnapped them all, she should know. And weren’t there cameras in all of the room for her to spy on them with? “I don’t think giving her your name was bad.” He reassured him, sensing Noah’s discomfort. He couldn’t have the man panic on him again. “A couple weeks ago, I received a letter in my room from our captor. I won’t go into details, but she wanted me to dye my hair.” He sighed. Even to this day, it sounded so ridiculous. “To blonde. I don’t know what her obsession with hair color is, considering she was also interested in yours. Either way, the letter addressed me by my first name.” It hadn’t seemed weird to him at the time, and even now, with this new information, it still made sense. “I will admit it is easier for my name to be known than yours, considering our circumstances – but I can’t imagine they wouldn’t have done some kind of research on all of us before kidnapping us, or at least after to know who they were dealing with. I doubt you told her anything she didn’t know. If that person was indeed the reason we’re here, she must have already looked up your first name, if anything at least before talking to you if she had the intention of paying you a surprise visit. If she didn’t know it…” he frowned. “… then maybe we need to reconsider whether she is the one behind all of this. Or at least… how sane she is for her to forget so easily.”

So many questions, so little to go by. He still wasn’t convinced the person behind all of this was a woman; but if she truly was a good enough manipulator to so thoroughly trick Noah, perhaps he should give her more credit.

His main issue still was the lack of pattern choosing her victims. You had old men like Huxley, young ladies like Freya. Rich men like him and Cassim, and simple citizens like… pretty much everyone else. He had no loving family to go to; Katherine was desperate to reunite with her father. Status, money, family; everyone here seemed so… utterly different. They didn’t even seem to care about the mess it must have caused for two company heir and CEO to go missing. What WAS this woman thinking?? He’d thought her crazy, she was proving to have some smart skills. So where was her head?

At those thoughts, he looked back up at the wall. Truth was, though he wanted to trust him, he knew very little of his architect. He wasn’t poor, that was for sure, he had a stable job. And he lived close. What about HIS family? Maybe if he wanted to actually figure out the pattern, he needed to start asking some questions. “… this will seem like it came out of nowhere.” He started, figuring out his transition so not to weird the older man out. “But do you have someone to go back to when we get out of here? Someone that would report you missing?” Someone our captor should have worried about but clearly didn’t? Seriously, why had she not kidnapped homeless men and prostitutes, if what she wanted was to torture them with no higher ambition? Wouldn’t that have been so much easier for her?

[Noah Hernandez]

Something out of him.

That phrase stuck in Noah’s mind. Not that it wasn’t believable, in fact it was too believable. She was gentle in behavior when asking about his hair color. But he still couldn’t figure out the why. Perhaps this was getting too repetitive at this point. Constantly questioning why, all while knowing he won’t get the answer. It was the definition of insanity, even if he was doing it a tad differently.

Asking the same question, expecting different results.

It’s the place, of course it’s this place. Many people get driven to insanity in confined places with no sense of freedom. Maybe he’s been secretly losing his own mind and will, and talking to Nameless further reinforced that. He couldn’t be sure, though it was apparent he wasn’t sure of most things anymore.

“Of course, there is always the possibility of her being forced to do what she does,” Dorian suggested. Noah contemplated that suggestion for a moment, he had never really considered her being a fellow prisoner, if it was in a different sense. Yet that would mean there were multiple people behind this operation, and he didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think this was an elaborate scheme set up by a possible criminal organization. Because if that were the case…then there was practically no hope of getting out of here.

“I don’t think giving her your name was bad,” he heard Dorian say. The heir then went into depth about how he had to change his hair color at the request of their kidnapper, addressing him by his name. And then of course stating how Nameless would’ve done research on all of them. Which made telling her his own name all the more pointless. Seems rather obvious now that Noah thinks about it, since she knew of Geoff and Hannah’s names at the wedding. Of course she would know the architect’s! These definitely weren’t his finest thinking days.

But there was that question Dorian posed again. Whether or not she was the one behind all of this. It wasn’t a far fetched notion, still he couldn’t help but wonder what her role in this was then if she was the designated audio overseer, someone pretending to be their kidnapper when she was a pawn in the true kidnapper’s complicated game of survival chess. Except that would be giving the impression that he and his other fellow captors and allies were given an equal chance to win. But no…no they weren’t.

“…this will seem like it came out out of nowhere….but do you have someone to go back to when we get out of here? Someone that would report you missing?” The heir questioned.

If this question had popped up earlier in the conversation, Noah would’ve assumed that Dorian was reaching out hope for people looking for all of them, yet the comments he made earlier asking about the architect’s wellbeing made Noah believe otherwise. He wasn’t really sure where this newfound concern was coming from. It might’ve been that he simply misjudged his former employer, Dorian just simply being a more compassionate person than he had previously thought.

“Um…yes, I do. I have two older brothers and a younger sister who I know would be worrisome about my wellbeing,” he hesitated slightly on the next part, it being something he didn’t like to vocalize…but he liked being honest more. “There’s also my ex-wife Roseline, I’m sure she’d be worried for my health too.” Noah paused again, not necessarily out of fear but in how he's trying to figure out how to comfort Dorian in his own way. Like trying to do a math problem in his head. “I can only hope your own parents and loved ones are just as concerned for you, Dorian.”

[Dorian F. Blund]

“Um…yes, I do. I have two older brothers and a younger sister who I know would be worrisome about my wellbeing.”
He had quite a few relatives worrying about him, then. It was somewhat of a surprise; Noah seemed like the independent kind, he wouldn’t have thought him a family man. He least of all would have guessed him to be a middle child. “I’m sure they must be looking for you.” He reassured him ambiguously; whether it was so he would feel cared for by his family or to say that there were more chances of being found if more people were reporting disappearances were unknown.

After all… it had been weeks already. With so many people looking for them, if numbers mattered, should they not have been freed already?

“There’s also my ex-wife Roseline, I’m sure she’d be worried for my health too.”

Dorian blinked in surprise. He spoke as if it was recent, yet… Did I know that? He did not think so. Of course their relationship had been purely professional until now, but… he usually tried to inform himself about people he would need to work closely with. “I did not know you too were a married man. Or, well, used to be.” Dorian spoke, more to himself than for Noah. Well, he was older than him by a good decade, surely he shouldn’t be so shocked to know he had been wed. And his marriage seemed to have ended more smoothly than his. “I guess we never really did speak of our lives, uh.” He muttered under his breath. Why did that almost bother him?

At the very least, the divorce would make things less difficult if Noah was to be forced into marriage. Dorian could already see from here the legal gymnastics of trying to annul a union when another was still ongoing. Hopefully none of the captives were already married.

“I can only hope your own parents and loved ones are just as concerned for you, Dorian.”

“I’m sure my parents are beside themselves with worry.” It wasn’t sarcastic, though his tone was cold. They’d dedicated 28 years of their lives to groom him to be the perfect heir. Losing him now would be an untold deficit. Maybe they should have thought to have a spare.

Well, perhaps it was for the best they hadn’t. He’d thought, a couple times, as a kid, what it would be like to have siblings, some company at least, but had eventually come to the conclusion that maybe his imaginary siblings were lucky not to exist, and that had been the end of that fantasy.

As for his loved ones… Well, Cassim cared for him, he was sure, but he was stuck here as well. His wife was dead. So was Kamala. His secretary would be troubled too, he was sure, but it was nothing she wouldn’t get over. Winfred would miss him, but he doubted he would attend his funeral if there was to be any. He just hoped he would be fed and taken care of.

And… that was all, apparently. He didn’t have anyone else.

“I’m afraid I don’t have quite as many distressed relatives as you waiting for me at home.” He said, trying to joke it off. He was the one who distanced himself from everybody, no use being upset over it now. “My loss would cause quite a recession in the company, so at least my workers will miss me.” He teased further.

[Noah Hernandez]

“I’m sure they must be looking for you,” Dorian reassured. Noah hoped so, but he also hoped they didn’t get caught up in this mess. He’d hate to see any one of them here or killed because their kidnapper didn’t want people to find out about her investigation. After all, it’s been established she has no issues dabbling in more…permanent methods of silencing people. She’s already killed one poor soul, and he can only hope that it stayed that way. He remembered how most of the people in the basement were very young, around Miss Sawyer’s age. They’ve hardly gotten the chance to live their lives yet. Must they have those opportunities taken away from them? At least Noah has had a good chance at life already. A career, a marriage (even if it failed), the younger folk would possibly never get that chance.

“I did not know you too were a married man. Or, well, used to be,” The heir said, “I guess we never really did speak of our lives, huh.”

“I would never expect such a thing, anyways,” Noah stated, “You were my employer. I was hired to do a job. It would be seen as unprofessional to discuss personal matters.” 

He didn’t want to sound harsh, but it was true, wasn’t it? Even if Dorian was younger than him, he was still his boss. Bosses and employees aren’t friends, they don’t share their personal troubles. Besides, the divorce was still a sore subject for him when he first met Dorian. It would’ve been inappropriate to open up about something like that.

“I’m afraid I don’t have quite as many distressed relatives as you waiting for me at home,” Dorian said, “My loss would cause quite a recession in the company, so at least my workers will miss me.”

The architect frowned for a moment. What a sad statement, and yet…he could relate. Three siblings, some nieces and nephews, an ex-wife, it might sound like a lot but truthfully he hardly had any friends. No co-workers. Only his family would miss him. He started to regret not being more open with people, be more social like how Huxley always taught him. Though oddly enough, being trapped with all these people and conversing with them has forced him to be more talkative and make the connections he was never able to when he had his freedom. Apparently it took him being kidnapped to make platonic relationships. Go figure.

“Well, if it means anything, I’m sure the many people here, including myself, would feel terrible if you shared your friend’s same fate,” The architect reassured. He knows he would anyways, even if the two were merely work acquaintances, he didn’t want the man to meet such an unfortunate end. He then remembered how he phrased his earlier statement. Was Dorian also married? He never remembered seeing him wear a wedding ring, but it could be that he wasn't paying attention either. "I'm sure your spouse would also miss you," he added, hoping his assumption was correct.

[Dorian F. Blund]

“I would never expect such a thing, anyways. You were my employer. I was hired to do a job. It would be seen as unprofessional to discuss personal matters.”
Dorian nodded; of course, he was right. And that was the kind of mindset he valued: serious, focused professionalism, that wouldn’t drift away from its course. He did not go to work to make friends, after all, but to get results, and Noah provided good ones. What else could he want?

Still… this bothered him a bit. He couldn’t get to know all his employees, god forbid, that would be such a waste of brain cells. No one could possibly hold that much information in their mind, and besides, why would he ever want to? But he did try to keep track of those he worked with on a more personal level, at least the amount of information he needed to get a proper picture of them and know how to handle them better. Somehow, he seemed to have skipped a few steps with Mr. Hernandez. Maybe he should simply blame that on his state of mind when he had returned to Maidefield, running away from his problems…

“Well, if it means anything, I’m sure the many people here, including myself, would feel terrible if you shared your friend’s same fate.”
Dorian raised an eyebrow at these words. Did the man actually believe that? He thought back to the people he knew here: Kamala was dead, Katherine would probably be sad, but she had more people here to worry and care about more dear to her than him, Hannah would at most be forlorn due to her empathic, caring nature, but she would move on quickly. He couldn’t imagine anyone else he had shortly bonded with being too heartbroken about him. Even Noah, as well-intentioned and gracious as he was, would certainly have other worries; the only person who would miss him was Cassim; and such a confident, friendly and charming man such as him would certainly have other people to fall back on for comfort. In the end, he would not be a real loss to anyone here.

“I appreciate the sentiment.” He answered, mostly because it would be rude not to reply back. The sentiment was unfounded, but he had meant well nonetheless. “I would regret your loss as well.”

"I'm sure your spouse would also miss you."

Ah… The man squinted his eyes in a sign of discontentment. How did the architect know that? He did not like people knowing more about him than they knew about them; it was often bound to happen when you were renowned, but once he got to meet the people themselves, he wanted to be one step ahead. Thinking back to the conversation, Dorian realized that it was his earlier choice of word that had led to this statement. Ah. What a blunder.

“I doubt she would from where she is.” Dorian had been raised in a rather conservative household, and taught religious values; but the truth was, neither he nor his parents held any real belief in God or the afterlife; but being open to the main religion of the land got them a lot of support, and that wasn’t something his family would back away from. In his eyes, you’re born, you live, you die, and that was the end of that. He did not believe his wife was watching him from the afterlife, looking over him now, and she most certainly wouldn’t be in hell; if a greater being had wanted her to be able to stay by his side in spirit and take care of him, they wouldn’t have taken her away, simple as that. Not that he could convince himself she even would want to waste her eternal life watching over the likes of him, anyway. “Alas, my wife died a little under two years ago. It was before we met, you had no way to know.” Unsure what force was pushing him to keep going, almost as if he needed to justify himself, he continued. “She used to live close from here, before we were wed. I thought it would be a good place to move to for a while. Get a change of scenery, new deals, you know how it is.”