Vivian "Ice" Whitcove (as_cold_as_ice) wrote in zenithrp, @ 2017-10-13 18:17:00 |
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Ice didn't have to open her eyes to know nothing had changed. The night had been spent in an uncomfortable semi-doze on the driest part of the mattress - but even so, she was still damp in places. But the place felt the same, smelled the same, sounded the same - except for the heat. That kicking on must've been what stirred her from her barely-sleeping place. She did finally open her eyes to see if anything within the cell had changed ... but aside from the second mattress, still leaning against the bars, being slightly drier, she didn't notice much. So she sighed, and moved the damper mattress to align with the flow of heat from the vent. If nothing else, she might have one marginally dry side to sleep on tonight ... and barring any adventures with the fire hose, the night after that, and the night after that. With little inclination to draw attention to herself or her cell, Ice left only the mattress against the bars - the one she'd slept on last night, she propped against the wall instead. It made the space seem smaller somehow, but ... no matter. It was what it was. Never a whiner or complainer, she nevertheless made a mental list of exactly everything that was wrong with this scenario, starting at the part where she was kidnapped and going down from there. While she did that, she stripped out of her damp jumpsuit, hanging that from the bed to try to dry that out as well and rid it of whatever dampness it had picked up from the mattress. Despite the fact she was alone, her expression was unchanging. No grimacing of distaste, no scowling, no frowning. Just a simple, neutral expression that was almost robotic. Granted, the removal of the jumpsuit left her in a tank and underwear but ... what of it? She was aware there were now people across from her, but that wasn't going to make her keep on uncomfortably damp clothing just to save some idea of modesty. Still and all, she did use the propped mattress to screen herself somewhat as she set about stretching and flexing. The cell was too small to dance in, but she could at least exercise, keep her limbs flexible, keep the blood flowing. Her eyes were closed as she went through the routine, but still her expression didn't change, save for her lips occasionally parting for a heavier exhalation or a deeper inhalation as she moved. What else, after all, was there to do here? |