It was amazing that Edwin was really registering anything that Dylan was saying when, in his head, all he was thinking was Get to Oliver. Find Oliver. Still, somehow, he did, he just didn't have time to focus on how confused he was over this woman. He knew that that was how this place worked. How did she? "What? No."
But that was for later. For now, Oliver. And now they were in the lounge. And Oliver's name was not on the door.
Edwin stood, his heart pounding, within arm's reach of the door, but he couldn't get himself to actually open the damn thing. It was Schrodinger's door; Oliver was both inside and not, and even with the clue on the door, he wasn't sure that he could bear to open it and find that the room was, in fact, missing the thing that made it Oliver's room. He needed a moment. He stopped to breathe, and raised a shaking hand to the door.
And that was about as far as he got. His hand had apparently made the decision that Schrodinger's Oliver was better than no Oliver. The rest of him needed that door open, but was too frozen in fear to do it.
"His name's not on the door anymore," he told the woman, or maybe just needed to say it out loud to himself. "I need him here. I can't-- I can't..." He couldn't open the door, and he couldn't handle it if he did and the room was empty. He was stuck.