Shane was awake at midnight. He hadn't been sleeping much.
He'd been sitting on the floor in the middle of Ella's trashed living room, amongst some untouched and some toppled furniture, his eyes closed, listening to sounds in the apartments around him. It kept him from growing bored, and honed his already keener than human ears as people scurried around in their little rat holes.
He didn't even notice he was somewhere else at first, until he noted that the sounds had stopped. He opened his eyes to a room similarly dim to the one he'd been in. Ah, but here was a real prison-not some joke of a woman's apartment dolled up to pretend that was one. They'd found him the genuine article. Fucking predictable.
He glanced from the rack to the manacles to the rope, to the bars in the ceiling. Only after he'd taken in the room did he look over the people, still sitting on the floor, unmoving aside from his eyes.
He said nothing, eyes settling on Eliot, the only one moving. They were steady, and cold, and unblinking.