The Labourer kept a firm grip on the length of chain as he climbed back up out of their initial cell, the weight and sturdiness of them a comforting anchor in these otherwise disturbing circumstances. As he climbs back up, he hears glass breaking above him, and he flies back into the bunker-room.

On the cot, the old man, once so filled with fervour as to rip his own chains off the wall, now weeps quietly, engaged in a quiet dialogue with himself and the shattered glass of a dropped bottle scattered about beneath him. The Labourer isn't sure whether to pity the man or scorn him, but in either case he's distracted by the fragance of the stale lager and the sight of five remaining bottles.
"Speak for yourself." He mutters back, grabbing a bottle for himself and pilfering the bottle opener out of the old man's hands, taking a deep pull and feeling a nasty satisfaction blossom in the back of his brain. A guilty, black gremlin, that says [i]I know I shouldn't, but I know I have to[/i]. Half the bottle gone in one go, he pulls his lips away from the neck with some reluctance, instead opting to examine the map with the woman.

It reveals lots and very little, simultaneously. They're on an island - [i]in[/i] an island? - and there are, apparently, several key points of interest, or at least that's as much as he can deduce by the various dots scattered about the map. The yellow one - at the north-west tip - is either the most important of all or, guessing from what little context is available, potentially a lighthouse and nothing more. Despite having a map, he felt somehow even more confused about their whereabouts.

Another idea struck him. Was the yellow them? He considered everything so far; the cell below - the key, hidden but poorly-enough to be found quickly - the pull-cord disguised in the lightbulb, leading them up here to some kind of supply room. Supplies for what? For the journey ahead of him. If the yellow was their current location, then they were at the furthest point of the island from the bridge, which seemed to be the only way off and back to civilisation. It almost made sense - like this was some kind of sick game, and they were being tested. [i]You made it this far, let's see how much further you can manage.[/i]

He felt that spark of angered survival instinct again. He flexed his grip around the chains in his hand. He looked again around the room at the supplies, before his gaze finally settled on the door. 

"Alright." He said, finishing the beer. "If anything's safe to eat, then let's eat. [i]Then[/i], let's see what's behind this door."

>Explore (try and open the door)