Ambrose flinched as Caleb's knuckles cracked against the wall. He watched with wild eyes, widened and unblinking. It just showed how poorly he was handling the situation. Stiffly, he was led to the unkempt bed, to which he sat down on. "I don't think everything is going to be fine." He croaked, staring blankly at the ground. 

Ambrose only winced as Caleb took care of the wound, which had thankfully stopped bleeding due to the care. Ambrose still didn't quite understand why Caleb treated him so gently, with so much kindness. A part of him wanted to lean into it, and yet most of it was just screaming at him that Caleb couldn't be trusted. Yet, even with that Ambrose caved into his own desires, which Ambrose wasn't sure if he regretted or not. But that didn't matter now, Ambrose could only see the images of corpses every time he closed his eyes. 

"It's not your fault." Ambrose spoke suddenly, "It's all of our faults." He hissed, gaze drifting from each person involved with the ritual. Ambrose was silent for a minute, before wiping the last of his tears and stood up suddenly. He nodded stiffly and made his way to the bathroom. "Yes. I think I'll do that." Ambrose shut the door behind him, stripping down and turning on the shower head. Ambrose turned the water to fiery temperatures, barely aware of it. He stood there for a long time, staring at the white tile until he finally refocused enough to wash himself. Ambrose emerged with a towel wrapped loosely around his torso. He approached Caleb, ignoring the eyes of the others and held out his hand for the clothes Caleb had offered.