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‘ Isolation, the state of one who is alone. ‘ Neither of the two men were actually alone, they had each other of course. But they might have as well been better off alone. It was awfully quiet now that the blonde had finally learned to show and not tell. And the antagonist liked it that way, but he sometimes feels as if he wanted to do a little more. It was his colleagues' fault that they were in here anyway, it had to be. The silence was boring, it wasn’t enough to satisfy him. He needed to be satisfied with himself. He almost wondered if possibly earning his trust was an option. Why? Because it would be hilarious for the same guy that used to be so charismatic, full of himself, an egotistical prick that listened with one ear then pushed the same information out the other. Is now a sad, pathetic, unknowledgeable, whimper worthless man. Part of him thinks that is his true self there, how entertaining. Almost amusing how different the two can be when put in the same, endless situation. The raven haired became more in control, and the blonde became more easy to work with. Like clay waiting to be molded, it was his to toy with. He was now the mouse in the cage, and he was the cat. And the boredom of this void of an elevator brought him ideas of how to play.
The man was practically living in the opposite corner as to himself. Facing the wall, he used to sniffle and sob, but now he just breathed. He had his arms wrapped around himself. He was desperate for touch, perfect. The need for touch was something he could use to his own advantages. He got up from the sickeningly orange floor. Was it orange, was it a shit shade of brown, who knows. He sure didn’t care at first and he doesn’t care now. He smiled softly, stepping over and hovering over the man housed in the corner. The other started to shake, bracing himself for any impact. He only slapped him once but apparently one slap is enough to reawaken what seems to be a scared manchild.
“ relax, you’ve been a good boy . “
“ … what ? “