Judith
Oliver waited for Uriel and Owen to finish comforting each other. Scaring them out of their wits wasn't the goal. Neither was breaking them. He did the demonstration because he always did, because it got people to understand that they'd have to play along. It wasn't about hurting them. It was never about hurting them.

Oliver had better things to do than hurt children.

He sighed. "I expect you'd rather not talk about personal issues with Mr. Edris in the room, so I won't. That said, Newton's Cradle is still supposed to 'rehabilitate' the two of you, and you *Are* In detention, so I'm going to be talking to you. You're at liberty to not answer any of my questions, or indeed talk to me at all. No, you don't get a lawyer, you're already serving time and this isn't gonna make it any more severe, but I'm still not gonna shut up."

He paced back and forth in the room, collecting his materials from his demonstration. It really just highlighted his comparatively diminutive stature, but he didn't mind that much. Dominance was already firmly established.

With another sigh, he got to the point. "Let's get the obvious questions out of the way. Owen, why is Uriel sleeping in your dorm room?" A simple question, though not necessarily simple to answer. Oliver didn't really care - he sat down and twiddled his thumbs while waiting for an answer. It passed the time.
Wai
Ok, that question was simple enough. It had a reasonable explanation. Jarring though the screech was, it had properly shaken the last of Owen awake- the ice had been blasted open, for better or worse. 

"It was an accident, sort of. It felt nice? They fell asleep, no wait, I fell asleep the first time, I forgot it was a rule that you can't-" 

An exasperated snort. *Come on.*

"We're not up to anything, uh, nefarious, if that's the issue here. There's just. There's some times I'd rather not be alone? Their, their presence is-" 

*Think hard.*

"Their presence has a positive effect on me, and I believe the reverse is true, and sometimes when people watch movies late at night wrapped in warm blankets they just *Pass out* And sleep til morning!"

There. That should do it. Nothing was technically untrue, but he had thankfully refrained from blurting out *'I missed feeling close to people and I feel close to Uriel finally and also I'm hellishly touch-starved and holy shit was that the best sleep I've had in years, why would I* **Not** *?'*

...His tone probably conveyed that, anyway. A suit of armour welded shut at the seams couldn't stop Owen from spilling his guts, one way or another. 

So now, what did Rask think of him? Frustration, disdain, complete *I-don't-get-paid-enough* Indifference? Something roiled pitifully in his stomach. He focused his mind on the stiff, quick, mechanical movements in his arm and leg, the cooling towers of the reactor. *Keep your head cool.* Leaning back in his chair and spreading his feet farther apart, the again stone-faced boy picked a loose strand of mist-coloured hair to lock his darting eyes onto. Twisted nerves, sure, but an iron will. This wouldn't be the death of him.
Mary
*Let's get the obvious question out of the way*, Oliver had said.

To Uriel's surprise, said question wasn't "Which fingers of yours should I break first," Or "Why should I spare your pitiful lives?". Instead, it was... The fairly mundane, disciplinary response. 

It was something a *Teacher* Would ask, and not the violently unhinged man Uriel saw Oliver as. Their eyebrow quirked upwards in surprise for the briefest of moments. 

As the words tumble out of Owen's mouth, Uriel can't help but focus on the exact *Wrong* Things— words like "It felt nice" And "Their presence has a positive effect on me".

It jolts them out of their stupor, and Uriel turns towards Owen to listen with... Something on their face. The mix of *That's one of the kindest things I've ever heard* And *He's going to eat you alive, you fool* Coalesces in a stupefied yet flattered expression. 

Uriel looks up at Oliver, wincing internally. Something about Owen's earnestness has throughly gutted any attempt to remain aloof and distance themselves from the situation— and a part of Uriel couldn't help but be a bit nervous at having their emotional shield stripped away so easily. 

"Ah, sir, I'm also a narcoleptic, so Owen over here finds it difficult to wake me once I do pass out..." They offer, a bit weakly as they tack it on to the end of Owen's waterfall of words.