"Thanks?" The man wasn't really sure how to take a compliment; he wasn't given them very often. What was he supposed to say? 'I grew it myself'? He wasn't even sure if that was entirely accurate. The glowing device embedded in his chest said otherwise. 

He took the towel and went back into the bathroom to dry off. It didn't take long to rub his short hair dry, and towel off the rest of him. He took the clothes that had been set out for him. They were too small, like the others had been, but at least they were dry. He pulled on the boxers and t-shirt. The nameless man then stood, visibly uncomfortable, in the middle of the room. What was he supposed to do next? 

The man found that, without orders to follow, he was pretty lost. He didn't know how to operate society's delicate rules: politeness, tact, small talk, anything. He found it impossible to begin to unwind here. He was pretty sure that this man, Kevin, was supposed to be an enemy, but he had no desire to harm him. He, honestly, wasn't sure what he desired at all. Why was he here? Kevin had already told him what he knew: that he was some kind of sick experiment, created from stolen blood. Did he really want to know more?

The man's stomach made a growl, and he shifted on his feet awkwardly.