Who: Chase and Billy Where The Doom Room When: Morning? Probably? Maybe?
Ugh, god, what was wrong with him?
The first thought that Chase had was that he must have fallen asleep on the couch while playing videogames, sitting up for who knew how long, pain shooting down his spine and into his hips as he shifted and began to open his eyes. His ass was asleep, his entire body cold, and he reached a hand out, blindly, to the left to search for the blanket he was certain he'd left beside him. Nothing, but cold, damp, strangely textured floor.
The floor? Not his floor. Even if he'd fallen off the couch, his bedroom didn't feel like this. It wasn't that dark, that chilly, that...gross feeling. He retracted the limb almost instantly as he blinked, trying to adjust to the dark, to focus on the one point of light he could see. He shifted, his bare feet moving to push him across the floor, and he could feel bits of grime collect on his skin, on his clothes. He tried not to panic, but already his heartbeat was thrumming away in his head, making it even harder to focus as his mind continued to swim. Where the hell was he? He felt as if he hadn't slept at all, or had too much to drink the night before, though the first was much more likely than the second.
There was something else, a sound he couldn't quite place. He'd shifted onto all fours to climb toward the source of light nearby, a flashlight from the looks of it, but all movement stopped as he listened. Breathing. There was someone else here. He hesitantly reached for the flashlight, his fingers curling around the handle as he aimed it straight upward, letting the stream bounce across the decrepit ceiling and walls of the small room, faintly illuminating everything. The filthy, dank, pitch black laundry room he'd never seen before. He was clad in the sweatpants he'd gotten at the course days before, and his own white tanktop. No shoes, no watch, no weapon.
"Shit!" The whisper came loudly, and he breathed heavily, twice, before squinting in the dark at the figure sitting next to him. He didn't aim the light directly on him, wanting to make sure he had at least a dim idea of what the rest of the room looked like, which corners to watch, where to look for shadows that might hop out at him. He moved again, this time toward the body, the man, still unable to see his face. His arm knocked into something on the way, and he narrowed his eyes to make out the shape of a bottle water on the floor.
Only when he was close enough to touch did he realize he recognized the man. It was the gym guy. Fuck, what was his name? Did he even know the guy's name? Was he okay? Was he hurt?
Don't freak out. You can't think if you freak out.
"Hey," he whispered, reaching a hand out to tentatively nudge the much larger man's arm. "Hey, come on. Wake up."