While the esteemed lady of the inn says her piece, Erik's fingers slide over the inner surface of the door, and when once again they have formed a fist he thumps it against the wood, just once, in frustration. There is no reasoning with these people. It was ridiculous of him to believe this was possible in the first place. (Well, all right, Ava's desire to help seems genuine, but he will not forgive the innkeeper for her presumed complicity in his abduction.)

"Well... then... if you mean to keep me locked in here for God only knows how long, could you at least bring me some water?" He shouldn't be raising his voice, probably, but politeness does not jive with his current feelings even remotely. There's nothing imperious about his tone, anyway. It's been...some insane number of hours, he doesn't know, but he does know he is thirsty and has a powerful headache, and he is not above consuming his own urine to survive, either, but he doesn't want to, so bring him a fucking juicebox or something, you jerks.