Snippet #2434438

Roald clung to the wall as the surprisingly human voice across the wall spoke to him. His chest flickered in and out, rustling the scrubs which now clung to his sweaty form. It was around this time that some more basic things became apparent. For one, this one wall was particularly chilly. He could feel the coolness against his palms and shoulder, the side of his face pressed against it. Ro really didn't care. He wanted to be as close to that voice as he could. He wanted something to listen to.

He was American, that much was obvious. And he was male. At least he sounded male. Roald shifted as silently as he could to bring his trembling knees to his chest. Listening was easy, it was something he could do. Listening was a hold on reality that as of these past few minutes he had none of. So, he shut his eyes to block as much of it out as he could. When his conversation partner stopped talking, Ro did the same with breathing. Thankfully, it was a brief pause before he resumed again. His breaths began to even slightly, despite being shaky and faint.

"No... I've never gotten inta any trouble. Jus'... I-I keep to m'self most o' the time... Certainly n-never... never committed any felonies..." He took as deep a breath as he was able, held it for three seconds, then blew it out. Something he'd learned over the years and tended to slip his mind. It did help. More than usual, actually. Made him even more lightheaded. "So're... you a gymnast? With the, th'stretchin' thing?" His voice remained soft, tentative.

Then a voice boomed overhead. Attacking cell walls. Ro's heart stopped, along with his thought process, as those panicked moments replayed in his head of trying to punch his way out. Punishment... A light whimper. It was addressed specifically to him.

"R-Roald... Roald Hartford..." he whispered.