Ava's voice silences him with only a moment of overlap; he is quick to listen, as it's all he can do. Her interruption isn't precisely heartening, but it's something, at least. Something other than arguing with this Savitri woman through this damned door.
Speaking of that—once the girl has gone, he asks, "How long have I been in here?" Days, probably. Days without water or food or light. He feels like he's withering, slowly curling in at the edges, remaining alive only by virtue of stubbornness. (It's not an unfamiliar feeling.)
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Ava's voice silences him with only a moment of overlap; he is quick to listen, as it's all he can do. Her interruption isn't precisely heartening, but it's something, at least. Something other than arguing with this Savitri woman through this damned door.
Speaking of that—once the girl has gone, he asks, "How long have I been in here?" Days, probably. Days without water or food or light. He feels like he's withering, slowly curling in at the edges, remaining alive only by virtue of stubbornness. (It's not an unfamiliar feeling.)