cytotoxic: (024)
cage wallace. ([personal profile] cytotoxic) wrote in [community profile] checkingout 2015-03-05 05:27 am (UTC)

a | hallways or lobby, interrupt wherever!

[ Cage is slow to waking, dragging his fingertips over the rough, dirty texture of the carpet as he pushes himself off the floor. He doesn't think for a second that he's been captured. Not by the grounders, or the people from the Ark — if they'd gotten to him, he would be dead. He also hopes he would've seen them coming, all things considered.

He takes his time leaving that dark hall, too, eyes narrowing against the bright light as he nearly trips over the suitcase. After a brief pause to unclasp the hinges and take a look inside, he picks it up and follows the arrows, stepping down the last flight of stairs and into the lobby a few minutes later.

It's bizarrely familiar. No light from the windows, a persistent sense of claustrophobia. Cage wanders up to the desk and eyes the bell for a second before glancing to the next person who passes, expression somewhere between bemused and annoyed.
]

Is this supposed to be a joke?

b | courtyard

[ It's been a long time since Cage has seen a door that wasn't six inches thick and made of steel, lined with locks. The sound of rain falling against the walls of the building is alien, too, and it doesn't even cross his mind to leave the suitcase safely indoors as he steps out into the dimly lit courtyard.

He glances up, apparently unbothered by the rain on his face — and after a second, he actually smiles, a little rusty and unpracticed. When he hears someone approaching, he's quick to turn his attention towards them, one hand lifting to sweep back damp hair.
]

Nice weather we're having.

[ Wry, a little flat, same as his expression now that he's wiped that smile off his face. ]

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