Christian sat curled in a ball in the corner of the little room he'd been given. It was small with a concrete floor and a lumpy bed with thin sheets. One would have thought after the days ordeals that Christian would be drop dead tired but it had taken him an hour to fall asleep and even so he slept fitfully waking every hour or so. Eventually he'd given up on sleeping and had crawled into the corner of the room cradling his head. The headache he'd gotten while in the crash had intensified and every time it peaked he'd get a random flash of something. The distance of a table, or the weight of the bed and sometimes more obscure things like the wavelength of light from the lamp or the pressure the table was exerting on the ground. Each of these flashes was too sudden to be of any real help to Christian. All they succeeded in doing was making his headache worse. It wasn't just flashes of his surroundings either, these were interspersed with memories most of them unpleasant, like he'd crossed some sort of wire in his brain and memories were leaking into his "second sight". If he was lucky that Dr. Wilson could show him how to shut it off, or at least make it useful.

At some point Christian realized that everyone was getting up. There was an increase of noise in the hall as well as voices that he recognized from the van. He decided that he might as well get up. At the very least these Reformers would hopefully have something to eat. Christian crawled his way to the door and felt around for the handle before using it to hoist himself into a standing position. Christian opened the door and walked outside into the hall. He kept a hand on the wall so that he wouldn't walk into it and followed the voices which seemed to be leading him to some sort of mess hall. 

Christian heard footsteps down the hall coming towards him. They were rubber soled and sounded kind of squeaky. Christian had spent much of his life having people make room for him because he couldn't be expected to keep track of all of there locations that it didn't even occur to him to wait for this person to pass. Christian kept walking slowly along the wall and as the squeaky footsteps approached, WHAM. The man collided with Christian. The blind man took him to be some sort of lab technician from the amount of papers that seemed to fall everywhere when the other fell to the ground.

"You fool, its going to take me hours to put those back in order, why don't you watch were you're going." Said an angry voice picking itself up off the ground. Christian was in a slight daze from the impact but snapped out of it quickly. "'Watching' anything hasn't been my job for along time jerk. You use your eyes, you still have a working pair after all." The lab assistant seemed to realize his mistake, he was not a pleasant man and so rather than apologizing profusely "Perhaps you should get yourself some indicators like a cane or shades or something, good day."

Christian rolled his eyes as the squeaky shoed man walked off down the hall. "I'm so sorry for not remembering them when you kidnapped me." He muttered under his breath to no one in particular. Then in that moment because he'd had a bad couple of days, and the strain of getting to know a new location and frustration were getting to him Christian curled his hand into a fist and slammed it into the nearest wall. Pain shot up Christian's arm and at the same time a rush of air shot out from him and two doors nearby opened with an almighty bang as though a Giant had opened them. "oops." Christian thought as he waved out his sore hand. From the feel of it the base of his fingers would bruise and he'd split one of his knuckles. It wasn't the first time. He still had scares from his first few months after the accident when hitting something hard had been his favored way of releasing frustration. He'd not done it in years and now he remembered why. "Old habits," He thought to himself hoping that no one had been watching.

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