[There's a specific point, round about the second stair from the bottom, that the hair on the back of Giorno's neck stands up. Maybe it's the scent of blood, old and disguised under a good cleaning but most certainly not Atem's. Maybe it's the double-locked doors. Maybe it's just instinct, which has always served him well — but he knows, suddenly and certainly, that something is very wrong.]
[As soon as he even starts to see the shape of things down here, literally and figuratively, he stops stock-still in the doorway, Atem's deliberate invitation be damned. He was a caged animal too long to willingly walk into a trap as obvious as this one.]
[The more he sees, the more bewildered he is. It's wrong and backwards and distressing from the first unidentifiable shrouded shape his gaze lands on, but as soon as he sees the medical tools, minimal though they are, he realizes he's stumbled into an actual nightmare.]
[It just . . . isn't his nightmare. And that's why all thought of caution leaves him in an instant, and he speaks, staring still at the bone saw.]
Does Steve know about this?
[In the back of his mind is a set of scales. His hands clench tight in the hem of his coat as he waits, tries to wait, for the explanation that's coming. That needs to come.]
no subject
[As soon as he even starts to see the shape of things down here, literally and figuratively, he stops stock-still in the doorway, Atem's deliberate invitation be damned. He was a caged animal too long to willingly walk into a trap as obvious as this one.]
[The more he sees, the more bewildered he is. It's wrong and backwards and distressing from the first unidentifiable shrouded shape his gaze lands on, but as soon as he sees the medical tools, minimal though they are, he realizes he's stumbled into an actual nightmare.]
[It just . . . isn't his nightmare. And that's why all thought of caution leaves him in an instant, and he speaks, staring still at the bone saw.]
Does Steve know about this?
[In the back of his mind is a set of scales. His hands clench tight in the hem of his coat as he waits, tries to wait, for the explanation that's coming. That needs to come.]