Trenton tongued the edge of his teeth as they made their way past the busted up door and deeper into the penthouse. Strangely enough, everything looked exactly he'd left it. Not that Trenton could remember leaving it, as he'd been unconscious at the time, but everything looked like it was resting in familiar places. His flatscreen was still playing on mute, although the program was something he didn't recognize. There was still blood on the floor from his initial confrontation with these two. He surveyed the living room for a moment, but it was a place of violence and everything bad that had ever happened, and Trenton took a swift detour into the kitchen. Surely they weren't going to stop him, it wasn't like he was running back out the door.
Functioning with handcuffs had taken some practice, but by now, Trenton was nearly fluid with it. He would have preferred to have them off, as he wasn't entirely sure of how to put on a clean t-shirt with handcuffs, but it wasn't a big deal.
Although.. it should have been a big deal. Trenton, like Dorian, relied heavily on his appearance. And while it bothered him that he was looking like one of the lower rungs of hell, the whole 'being out of his cell' thing was so new that he just wasn't going to sweat the small stuff yet.
He opened the fridge, and with some effort, wrangled a corona loose from it's case before walking back through to the living room. He didn't have much to say as he sank onto the couch and leaned back against one of the pale corners. He dug a lighter out of the seam between couch cushions, and used it to pop the metal cap off of his bottle.
"Beer?" He offered with a glance to Micah. "Capri sun?" His attention swayed to Cole, who he just didn't pin as a drinker. Even if he hoped both of them fucking choked on it, Trenton knew that the best way to get them out of his personal space was to be civil.