Curt could hear footsteps as someone approach. Curt could tell from the silhouette that the person was a woman, her hands tucked into the pockets of whatever she was wearing, but he couldn't make out much else as she remained in the shadows.]

@martin-thea

Curt’s curled up on the floor, tucked away the best he could into a corner. He’d be visible either way. Hair unbrushed and matted, the whisp beginnings of stubble poking out the sides of his face. The same clothes he’s worn since that failed attempt of getting Owen out, with a jacket he’s refused to part with whenever someone visited.

His expression is neutral, almost bored, when someone made their way over. He didn’t even move, besides raising his head slightly to indicate he had noticed them. That they wouldn’t go undetected. But he couldn’t see them. He couldn’t take in their appearance, it’s hard to tell the way light silhouettes them from behind. At first, his mind was convinced it was Owen. The next moment, he knows it isn’t him. Just someone unimportant.