You were looking around as soon as he opened the door. What you saw wasn't terribly exciting: a normal enough hallway with white walls and periwinkle carpet. It was long and thin in a short L shape, like a Tetris piece. There were two doors on the long side, to your right. Your door was at the end, before the turn to your left; where the final door was. All of the doors were identical and the textured walls were bare. It was a short trip to another set of doors, arranged in an open square.
He took you through the one straight ahead into a warmly lit dining room. The wood table was long, and had two sets of matching high-backed chairs on either side. Your escort pulled your seat out for you, and pushed you in when you sat. Every attempt to break the silence was met with a glare. So, you sat and fidgeted with your new bracelet: noting the gem was in there very sturdily. Several seemingly endless minutes passed until another man appeared: one you had not seen yet. His hair was black, and you noticed his front teeth bucked out a little when he grinned at you. He was holding a china soup tureen as he came through the same door you had. He set it down on the table and sat across from your captor. This new bespectacled man glanced your way again before he started smugly speaking in a guttural language you could neither recognize nor decipher. You only had to endure a couple seconds of this: the man who'd fed you breakfast walked in, disheveled and obviously flustered. Along with his sunglasses from earlier he was wearing a white button-up shirt and slacks with a black tie, or rather, almost was. There were several unbuttoned buttons, his tie was barely on his neck, and his sunglasses were falling off his nose; revealing his orange eyes for the split second it took for him to realize that there were more people in this room than he was expecting. You could almost hear the 'oh, fuck' in his features, before he visibly calmed- almost like a mask sliding into place alongside his glasses- and excused himself. The black haired gentleman was failing to hide his grin behind a raised hand. You looked at the man next to you: he looked unamused, until he noticed your glance to which he placed a long-fingered hand on your thigh and smirked briefly. The hand stayed.
"Every time, Jake?" he asked. This was clearly for your benefit.
"Of course!" the other man, apparently named Jake, replied "When this opportunity knocks, I can't let it pass. Call it genetic."
Pointy-sunglasses returned to the dining room at this point. He looked absolutely sharp, which was impressive, given his previous state.
"Welcome back, Dirk" Jake said, looking mischievous. "You keep getting faster at that." Dirk scoffed and sat at the final seat, across the table from you. You got the distinct impression that he wasn't making eye contact, even though nobody could see his eyes.
Jake motioned to a cabinet behind your neighbor
"Would you mind, terribly, getting what we're to eat on and with, Dave?"
The feeling of the room changed drastically at the name. You got goose bumps… Not really. But it felt like you really, really should have. Like it was some huge twist. A massive reveal… These are some very weird thoughts for you. You mentally shook the feeling and focused back on the room you were in; they were deep in a conversation you knew nothing about, and someone had dished out the soup. Dave's hand was no longer on your thigh, and his smirk had returned. You tasted the soup: it was an Italian wedding soup, and absolutely delicious.
As the meal progressed (if it could still be called that, it was only the soup) you noticed a few things: Dirk would jump or stutter every so often, sometimes faltering out entirely mid-sentence. These were usually followed by a grin from his neighbor. Dave would fidget, even when he was talking: sometimes with hems or loose strings on his own clothes, sometimes on yours; sometimes he would trace idle patterns on your leg or arm, and the aviators made it hard to tell if he was looking at you.
Not that you could judge him for it. You finished the soup and proceeded to fidget as well: tracing along the rim of the bowl, trying to pull your skirt lower, readjusting your skirt when Dave focused elsewhere, playing with your bracelet, playing with the choker, or thoroughly examining the table (it had 5 scratches, 3 dents, and 4 droplets of soup). All they discussed were things you had never heard of either: something about siblings elsewhere, hunters, and a man they referred to as Voldemort (something about already being here). Dirk didn't add much, every time he tried he would be cut off- and that's what it was, cutting him off, giving him hell. Not that he seemed to mind.
You hadn't even realized you'd never seen Jake's left hand (even though you knew exactly where it was) until it thumped onto the table alongside its matching right; its owner pushing himself to rise, signaling the end of the meal. Dave helped you out of your seat, offering his crooked arm, and led you out the door.
When the pair of you returned to your door, Dave gently pushed you against the door and kissed you. The kiss was deep, passionate and full of obvious need, which you returned. His hands roamed your body; mostly staying within the fabric of the dress, but whenever he missed the contact of your skin would send a wave of heat through you. This only lasted a few moments, though. He broke the kiss and backed up a little, gently holding you in place.
"You don't remember enough, to go on would be taking advantage of you." he said. He then gave you a quick peck to your cheek, showed you through your door and then started talking again
"You have homework for tomorrow. It'll be in the top right drawer of the armoire. Make sure you read it." he shut the door with a click, leaving you alone with your frustration. You quickly changed back into what you'd initially put on, grabbed a book you barely read as you fantasized until you fell asleep.