Over the two weeks, he had gotten used to the clothes, food, and oddly enough, the blood. He did what he had to to not pass out and re-injure his shoulder. So he went through it, sometimes thinking about how Kim was doing in her cell. The occasional threat turned from scary, to almost humorous. He grew to be able to sleep on the cold floors. Now he was waiting to either be executed or recruited. Whichever would happen first was a variable.