Only peripherally aware of the conversation that was going on in the other room, Guy got to his feet, finding himself growing tired with being so still.
He'd been pretty much inactive since pulling the one guy into the cage bars, at least; and now, while he felt a little more comfortable with the idea that no one was going to pull a gun on him, something about the others being out of sight had him uneasy. With vague nuances of sexual tension drifting out of the room, he set himself to pacing, his hands latticed behind his neck as he walked.
The smell of coffee took precedence. Beyond that and the aforementioned awkwardness, there was little else he could pick up out of what was going on. He felt better in here than he did in the cage - and he didn't have to think about why that was - but he couldn't help but wonder. It didn't escape his grasp that the dhampir might have pulled her friend aside to talk about him, after all - he'd already set one of them to pulling the alarm. And even if Madlenka hadn't finished him off when she'd had the chance...
Well, maybe paranoia was just a new, fun part of this personality of his. All the same, a cloying mental image of them walking back, gloved hands, those calm, half-expecting looks on their faces... And a syringe. He stopped stock-still in the room at that thought, staring off at the wall as though it demanded his interest. The synapses in his memory bank were working, that was for damn sure, but he couldn't make a lick of sense of it.
On a whim, he pulled up his sleeve, wanting to catch a look at the crook of his elbow. It was bruised, with the tiniest of pinpricks showing an injection site. A beat or two passed before he looked up again, eyes narrowed distrustfully.