Basil clutched the blanket tightly around his body as he watched the eyeball head lady exit the room. If he was patient, maybe he would have the option to be the last to leave, but if not he would have to duck out rather quickly.
Wait.
Basil looked down at his blanket, his face hidden once again by the familiar shadow. How did I get back over here? I was just over on the other side of the room-
Something in his leg was stinging. He really wasn’t quite sure why it was hurting so badly, but there were more important things to consider at the moment. First, he had been in the corner he was now at, then the man who had been lying on the floor began screaming uncontrollably, and everything went dark. Then he woke up with eyeball head lady staring death into the back of his skull and vacated to the other side of the room to occupy the ceiling.
Then he fell off, and then he climbed back up, and then he fell off again - he could still taste that vile powder in his mouth. But how did he end up back here again?
In the few seconds taken up by Sue exiting the room, Basil racked his brain, trying to come up with an explanation. There was… There was- Yes! There had been a sudden indicator of light entering the room. The smallest sliver, but it was there, entering through the opening in the door as the fellow in the suit opened it from the other side.
Light. That meant sight. Now he could see. But he could already see thanks to the robot girl’s eyes glowing ominously, so why had this been relevant? It didn’t affect him much - in fact, it made seeing a bit more difficult. Hopefully the others were grateful they had the light since they could now see.
Oh.
Basil tightened his grip on the blanket and slowly walked forward, two thoughts fighting for dominance in his conscious. One was that he was not hidden by the blanket during the dark, and one of them may have seen him, which would have been very bad. He didn’t want anyone else having to see him this way.
The second thought was the shattered bulb on the floor, which he now stood in front of, looking remorsefully at the reflective pieces of glass which lay strewn about in the middle of the room. He had been the cause of that loss of light, of the floor guy’s discussion with the girl with the gun, of the blue-eyed girl hitting the wall. Oddly enough, there seemed to be one less piece of the former lightbulb than before, although he couldn’t figure out why or how he knew one was missing.
Something in his leg was stinging. But not worse than how he felt.