(Untitled)

[askwhatsreal]

[oom: Sometime after this, Annie tries to escape. She opens a door.]

There is a girl huddled on the floor, bound hand and foot in iron chains. She is barefoot, wearing a purple hospital shift and bruises up and down her body. Most noticeably, three tight rings mottle her upper arms in blue and green (the color of her eyes, if you care to make the

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[claudiometer]

It's a second before the sound gets through to Claudia; she's caught up in her plans for the El Camino in the garage. But when it does?
"--Oh, dude." She's on her feet and searching the pockets of her tool belt for something that'll work as a lockpick before she's entirely aware she's doing so. When her brain catches up with her hand, she half wishes she had enough hair to justify bobby pins.
"What happened?"
(You don't ask someone in chains and weeping if they're okay. The answer's pretty obviously 'no.')

[askwhatsreal]

These chains don't look like they'd part to the tune of a bobby pin: they're linked together as tightly as a Japanese puzzle box, assembled by mechanisms and machines.

Annie turns to the questioner, and waits for the knot in her throat to go away before speaking.

"I tried to escape."

She wrings her hands, and the handcuffs jangle in response.

[claudiometer]

"I think you made it." At least, Claudia doesn't know of anyone around here with that kind of sadistic streak.
As for the chains, once she gets a closer look... well, mechanisms are her thing. One of her things, anyway. And she's always got that kind of tools on hand.
"If you want, I could try to get those off."

[askwhatsreal]

Annie looks her over: tool belt, determined eyes - but kind.

"You can always try."

Her eyelashes feel heavy, from the tears - she tries to wipe them away and almost gets an eyeful of metal for her efforts.