Who: Reginald, Chase and Kiley Where: Reginald's room (Kiley's old room) When: Just after Reggie's post
At some later point Chase would have to wonder why his first instinct had been to do bodily harm to whoever was pretending to be Reginald on the network. The idea that maybe, possibly, the post had actually come from the older man had come later, after he'd angrily tugged his socks and boots on and led the way toward Kiley's old room. By the time he'd reached the top of the stairs at the third floor, that had graduated to tentative hope, and he found himself thankful that he hadn't grabbed the hammer like he'd wanted.
It was a trick. It had to be. People didn't come back from...wherever they went when they disappeared from this place. Whatever was actually happening, he wondered if he was walking right into it, and dragging Kiley with him. He almost wanted to tell her to go back to the room, but that felt weirdly chauvinistic rather than protective. Kiley wasn't a wilting flower, and he wasn't some asshole grunt of a boyfriend. Or, at least, he was trying not to be. Besides, Kiley was fully capable, and willing, to shut him down if he went too far, and they both knew it. The very least he could do was go first.
It was weird seeing the wrong door there, the colorful starry night they'd painted together now residing back in the room they shared on the closet it had originated from. His brows shot up at Reginald's name etched across the one that stood there now, and he fought not to take a step back when he saw it.
"Holy shit," he breathed, his eyes wide, and the tentativeness surrounding the hope began to dissolve into excitement. He stepped forward and knocked without thinking any further about it, then moved back again as his instinct took over, making certain that he gave them both enough space so they could turn and run down the stairs if something any stranger happened.