Prometheus had spend most of the weekend, huddled in a ball in a corner. When the lights came back on, he hadn't moved. Instead he'd curled up closer into himself, fearing the sunrise more then any darkness.
After all, sunrise tended to bring forth the eagle, and while somewhere he knew he wasn't tied down anymore the fear remained.
So the banging on the door went ignored. He couldn't make himself get up, not really. He feared the consequences of answering the door, fearing that if he moved he'd realize that he was still tied up and the eagle was right around the corner.