He looks ... listless isn't nearly strong enough a word. Drained, maybe; enervated, not by any great exertion but by leaden despair. As she sits down, he lowers his head back to the pillow, like it's too heavy to hold up.

(His wrists aren't bound anymore; the zip tie is gone. But he's lying with his forearms together, as though they still are.)



"Maybe He thinks I'm dead." Low and dull, and as though continuing a conversation already in progress.