The latch on his door slid open and a gruff voice echoed from the other side: "Come on, bug boy. Time for some exercise."

Gavin uncoiled himself from where he was sitting on the bed, getting to his feet with some difficulty. He was still a bit weak from the months spent in forced inactivity, and his cheeks and back ached where his insectoid organs connected. Groaning, he slouched to the door, trudging out and seeking support from the walls in the sterile-looking hallway.

Teeth and mandibles clenched in some variety of anxiety, Gavin slunk into the large, expansive dining room, eyeing the food suspiciously. The powerful sensory receptors in his mandibles caused them to twitch, giving his cheeks an odd, stretched. The delicious smells of the food assaulted his mind. His shrunken stomach growled. His wings flickered involuntarily, a dry rustling sound emanating from his back. His expression changed into one similar to horror and revulsion combined, and he looked like he might be sick.

There was another person there. Maybe his age, maybe a bit younger. He didn't quite know what her deal was, but he suspected that there weren't many "normal" people to be found here other than the staff. For the moment, he was going to stay as far away from anybody else as he possibly could. You know what they say; you're not paranoid if there's really someone out to get you.