You can pace the room if you’d like, but it’s barely a cage; long enough to lay out on the floor in either direction, but not much bigger. At first it seems empty; but after a time the shallow sound of breathing is perceptible, coming from one of the walls. There’s a bed there, little more than a cot, with a supine body on it. Was that there
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Are you okay over there?
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[That's not quite enough to wake him up, but he stirs a little in the dimness, face pinched in some unconscious worry.]
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You're alive. That's a start.
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I'm no good to anyone dead, right?
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[She stands up and examines the IV bag attached to the line. She wants to know what's going into his veins]
The other way is as long as you're not dead, you can still get away.
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[Saaarcasm, he has it. As for the IV, it's anyone's guess; Tommy doesn't know, so the detail's missing. It's unmarked.]
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[Have some snarkiness back. She takes note that the IV is unmarked.]
How do you feel?
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[One's trapped, the other's experimented on. Tommy is the lucky intersection. It's days, sometimes, between seeing other prisoners.]
What'd I do to deserve a roommate?
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[She sits down with her back against the wall next to the cot]
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[Can you see the raised eyebrow? It asks the classic prisoner question, what are you in for?]
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I don't know the answer. I'm not special. I'm an FBI agent.
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