The only consolation Avery got from that was the satisfaction of watching Rylan's face go red, and that was, perhaps, the first clear evidence he could think of that proved she did, in fact, have the slightest hint of shame. Though he supposed he shouldn't be pleased to learn that her only shame was regarding him.
Jackson, on the other hand, just stared at him with narrowed eyes that Avery met with his own furious glare. "What exactly are you getting at?" the blonde man had the gall to ask him, and Avery was very close to laughing in his face.
"What I mean," he spat, under the distinct impression that either Jackson was for some reason playing dumb or else Avery was simply talking to an imbecile, "is that this shit--" He pointed to the clearly visible cloud of chemicals wafting through the vents. "--is either going to work like roofies or ecstasy, and either way, we're fucked. Literally, in this case."
Rylan, damn her, stood and started toward him, utterly ignoring his growled protests. "Then let us try to help you open the fucking door!"
These people were going to kill him. They were absolutely, one hundred percent, without a doubt going to kill him. "I don't want you--either of you--anywhere near me when that shit starts working."
Jackson laughed, and Avery turned his hateful gaze back to him. "You're kidding, right? Look, let's pretend for a minute that all of the stories we heard the last few days are just misremembered, drug-induced rapes by proxy. If so, do you really think it's going to matter that we're all on opposite sides of the room when that shit starts affecting us? Because I really highly doubt it."
"What I am hoping," Avery hissed through clenched teeth, "is that the two of you will be distracted enough with one another that I will be able to continue to work on this fucking door."
Rylan actually rolled her eyes. "Because you're, what, immune? Or so utterly and completely repulsed by us that even drugs couldn't bring you to--?"
"Just do what I say, would you?" he snapped, cutting her off before she had the chance to finish the thought.
No, after all, was the correct answer. No, he didn't trust his willpower to hold out against whatever the hell was being pumped into the room; every single witness they'd spoken to this week had talked about how overwhelming this shit had been, how impossible it would have been to fight even if they'd had the wherewithal to try, and Avery certainly wasn't about to take it for granted that he was going to be the miraculous and only exception. He didn't have that kind of luck.
Nor, unfortunately, did he think being stuck in here with Rylan would help. Perhaps if it was just himself and Jackson, that would be a different story. The other victims of this had been with strangers, and Avery had a survey size of zero when it came to people who had been subjected to this along with someone who might as well have been an enemy. If it was just himself and Jackson, provided Jackson kept to himself (which, in all honesty, Avery didn't really except him to do), Avery might have stood a chance.
But Rylan was here, and Avery had no doubt that sometime with the next few minutes, he was going to be stuck watching her and Jackson fuck, whether he wanted to or not.
Christ, his life was terrible.
Rylan didn't appear the least bit pleased with his attempt to dissuade her nor being told what to do, but she merely walked over to Jackson and, with a faintly glaring glance in Avery's direction, took him by the arm and pulled him back into the corner Jackson had left behind a few minutes ago. Avery turned his back on them again, listening to the sound of their indistinct, quiet whispers and went back to battering the door with all his quickly failing strength.
It was another few minutes before he felt it, and he hadn't made a bit of progress by then. A certain despair sense of despair was sinking into him as he felt the entirely unwelcome arousal taking hold, manifesting itself first as little more than a jump in his pulse until finally his groin started to take interest, and Avery rested himself against the metal door for a moment, determined not to turn around and check on the other two. He knew exactly what he would find.
Aliens Made Them Do It [2/?]
Jackson, on the other hand, just stared at him with narrowed eyes that Avery met with his own furious glare. "What exactly are you getting at?" the blonde man had the gall to ask him, and Avery was very close to laughing in his face.
"What I mean," he spat, under the distinct impression that either Jackson was for some reason playing dumb or else Avery was simply talking to an imbecile, "is that this shit--" He pointed to the clearly visible cloud of chemicals wafting through the vents. "--is either going to work like roofies or ecstasy, and either way, we're fucked. Literally, in this case."
Rylan, damn her, stood and started toward him, utterly ignoring his growled protests. "Then let us try to help you open the fucking door!"
These people were going to kill him. They were absolutely, one hundred percent, without a doubt going to kill him. "I don't want you--either of you--anywhere near me when that shit starts working."
Jackson laughed, and Avery turned his hateful gaze back to him. "You're kidding, right? Look, let's pretend for a minute that all of the stories we heard the last few days are just misremembered, drug-induced rapes by proxy. If so, do you really think it's going to matter that we're all on opposite sides of the room when that shit starts affecting us? Because I really highly doubt it."
"What I am hoping," Avery hissed through clenched teeth, "is that the two of you will be distracted enough with one another that I will be able to continue to work on this fucking door."
Rylan actually rolled her eyes. "Because you're, what, immune? Or so utterly and completely repulsed by us that even drugs couldn't bring you to--?"
"Just do what I say, would you?" he snapped, cutting her off before she had the chance to finish the thought.
No, after all, was the correct answer. No, he didn't trust his willpower to hold out against whatever the hell was being pumped into the room; every single witness they'd spoken to this week had talked about how overwhelming this shit had been, how impossible it would have been to fight even if they'd had the wherewithal to try, and Avery certainly wasn't about to take it for granted that he was going to be the miraculous and only exception. He didn't have that kind of luck.
Nor, unfortunately, did he think being stuck in here with Rylan would help. Perhaps if it was just himself and Jackson, that would be a different story. The other victims of this had been with strangers, and Avery had a survey size of zero when it came to people who had been subjected to this along with someone who might as well have been an enemy. If it was just himself and Jackson, provided Jackson kept to himself (which, in all honesty, Avery didn't really except him to do), Avery might have stood a chance.
But Rylan was here, and Avery had no doubt that sometime with the next few minutes, he was going to be stuck watching her and Jackson fuck, whether he wanted to or not.
Christ, his life was terrible.
Rylan didn't appear the least bit pleased with his attempt to dissuade her nor being told what to do, but she merely walked over to Jackson and, with a faintly glaring glance in Avery's direction, took him by the arm and pulled him back into the corner Jackson had left behind a few minutes ago. Avery turned his back on them again, listening to the sound of their indistinct, quiet whispers and went back to battering the door with all his quickly failing strength.
It was another few minutes before he felt it, and he hadn't made a bit of progress by then. A certain despair sense of despair was sinking into him as he felt the entirely unwelcome arousal taking hold, manifesting itself first as little more than a jump in his pulse until finally his groin started to take interest, and Avery rested himself against the metal door for a moment, determined not to turn around and check on the other two. He knew exactly what he would find.