Seth flinches automatically upon being grabbed, but as much as he wants to pull away, he doesn't. He's done this before. This is all painfully, sickeningly familiar. Right down to the featureless underground corridors. He wonders where they are, how deep down they are. America, presumably. Though not necessarily, it might just be an American operation. Apart from underground, there's really no way to tell, apart from asking, and, well. Even if he had the mental capacity to inquire about such things, he doubts his escorts would be chatty.
As it is, Seth remains quiet, and they don't ask him anything further, and then he gets dumped into what is definitely an interrogation room.
Under different circumstances, he might've railed against this treatment. Demanded to be seen, to be informed what's going on, to be acknowledged at all. He knows himself well enough to know he's not above lashing out at his cage and his captors.
Two things are stopping him. One is the hope that soon Daniel will wake up and come see him, or speak for him, and that if Seth behaves aggressively then that will definitely count against him. The other is that he's just so completely exhausted. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. Spiritually too, but he's not sure he's been all that great there for ages.
Most of his time is spent on the floor, leaned against the wall. There's a chair there, sure, but it's not actually that much more comfortable, and when he's all alone it somehow just makes everything more stressful. So exposed, in the center of the room. He'd rather be along the edges, back to the wall. It's easier on his claustrophobia, seeing as much of the room as possible, rather than having it pressing in from all directions.
Time passes unbearably slow, and it's impossible to guess how long he's been in there. He's tired and hungry and thirsty, but physical needs seem to take a backseat. Regardless of how tired he is, he couldn't sleep here. He wonders if they'll keep him in here long enough to go into withdrawal. He wonders if it's already starting.
He breaks down twice while waiting, each time until it seems like there's no more emotion or tears to wring out of him. He's not even sure what he's specifically upset about when it happens. It's just all too much, and it doesn't seem focused on one particular thing. Sometimes the sounds or the images of the people Daniel killed. Daniel asking him to kill. Memories of his Daniel, the one who knows him, both things that happened and things that didn't. Gabe, and Johnny, and his apartment. Kelly, or Shannon. Even Manchester, which he hasn't seen in years. Happy and sad things alike. The topics capable of upsetting him seem endless.
And then, at last, at long last, the sharp sound of the door opening, and Seth lifts his head to look.
no subject
As it is, Seth remains quiet, and they don't ask him anything further, and then he gets dumped into what is definitely an interrogation room.
Under different circumstances, he might've railed against this treatment. Demanded to be seen, to be informed what's going on, to be acknowledged at all. He knows himself well enough to know he's not above lashing out at his cage and his captors.
Two things are stopping him. One is the hope that soon Daniel will wake up and come see him, or speak for him, and that if Seth behaves aggressively then that will definitely count against him. The other is that he's just so completely exhausted. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. Spiritually too, but he's not sure he's been all that great there for ages.
Most of his time is spent on the floor, leaned against the wall. There's a chair there, sure, but it's not actually that much more comfortable, and when he's all alone it somehow just makes everything more stressful. So exposed, in the center of the room. He'd rather be along the edges, back to the wall. It's easier on his claustrophobia, seeing as much of the room as possible, rather than having it pressing in from all directions.
Time passes unbearably slow, and it's impossible to guess how long he's been in there. He's tired and hungry and thirsty, but physical needs seem to take a backseat. Regardless of how tired he is, he couldn't sleep here. He wonders if they'll keep him in here long enough to go into withdrawal. He wonders if it's already starting.
He breaks down twice while waiting, each time until it seems like there's no more emotion or tears to wring out of him. He's not even sure what he's specifically upset about when it happens. It's just all too much, and it doesn't seem focused on one particular thing. Sometimes the sounds or the images of the people Daniel killed. Daniel asking him to kill. Memories of his Daniel, the one who knows him, both things that happened and things that didn't. Gabe, and Johnny, and his apartment. Kelly, or Shannon. Even Manchester, which he hasn't seen in years. Happy and sad things alike. The topics capable of upsetting him seem endless.
And then, at last, at long last, the sharp sound of the door opening, and Seth lifts his head to look.