And just like that, Ed is gone again, leaving Oswald a little dumbfounded all over again as he stands there clutching the pile of clothes. He'd felt himself wanting to say something to Ed, his mouth trying to form around words that he isn't quite sure of yet and in the end he hadn't really managed to settle on what he wanted to say anyway.

He sighs, bows his head for a second, then sets about getting himself cleaned up.

It turns out that it is rather hard to relax after being dragged into a sex prison city, but at the very least by the end of his bath Oswald is a somewhat less frayed and frazzled. The time to wash off the arrival, get his mind in order and get into some fresh clothes go a very long way to pulling his fractured pictures back together again, making his steps out of the bathroom and down the stairs more confident. Ed's switchblade in his pocket, temporarily swiped from the jacket, also helps--like a safety blanket for mobsters.

He treads with care though, taking a little more time to map the layout of the pink house as he descends, mental notes for the exist, furnishings, sounds of life and movement as he listens out for signs that Ed is indeed still present somewhere. Paranoia has been Oswald's greatest tool for survival and he's not about to let it go now.