Lydia's suspiciously lifeless body crumpled under its own weight, and if the length of chain he'd attached her to the wall with had been any longer she would have fell completely to the floor. Instead her body hung limp, suspended dead weight put entirely on her arms and likely to pull them out of socket if she didn't wake up soon. Ian knelt down in front of her and peeled a few once-blonde locks of hair from her bloodstained forehead to prevent matting, tucking the hair neatly behind her ear and slipping his hand around her neck. Fingers prodded and pressed down on her skin. He didn't feel anything at first and a minor moment of panic set in when he thought he'd killed her, but no.<br/><br/>"There it is," he murmured to himself when he felt soft vibrations against his fingertips, pleased that she wasn't done in yet. It wasn't the goal to kill her. He just wanted to teach her a lesson about using her indoor voice, and throwing around chains and trying to tear them out of the wall was definitely not considered indoor voice.<br/><br/>The sound of chain links brushing against each other, as soft as they were, seemed to fill the entire room up with sound, and it just vaguely reminded Ian of some sort of sinister wind chime. Hands cupped either side of Lydia's face to bring her head to a rest against her arms instead of dangling lifelessly backwards. That couldn't have been good for her breathing, and she just looked all-around more appealing when she wasn't unconsciously gawking at the ceiling. Once he'd taken care to get Lydia situated in as comfortable a position as she was going to be in for a while, he hoisted himself up to his feet and rubbed the stiffness out of his knees.<br/><br/>To Lydia's right, Kian Wight stood as steadily as he could considering the circumstances. Ian had to admit he was a little impressed at the resilience. "Well good morning," he greeted. He was nothing if not a polite host. Ian took to the center of the room in long strides and stood on his toes to pull a small silver chain, and the entire room illuminated. It was ridiculously bright for his tastes, so it had to be more than a little unpleasant for the room's regular occupants. He paced back to Kian and took the man's chin between his fingers.<br/><br/>"How are you feeling?" he asked, tilting and turning Kian's face as he examined it. Pupils dilated with just a slight delay, but that was fine. There was a possibility for a minor concussion, but nothing that wasn't workable. Ian didn't wait for an answer, and pushed the youth's chin upwards just slightly so they could make eye contact, offering nothing but a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "If I had to guess, probably not very well. I hit you harder than I meant to, so I have to apologize for that, but-" He paused for a moment, reached around with his free hand to brush against some mostly-congealed blood. He brought his hand down between them, looking down at the viscous red that currently stained his fingers. Ian considered the substance between his forefinger and thumb for a moment, sparing it a resigned<span style="font-style: italic">tsk</span>and continued. "-but I guess you'll have that, won't you?"<br/><br/>Somewhere to the right, a deep voice cracked on a sob, and Ian shot Kian an apologetic look and held up a finger in a silent gesture to ask the other to be patient. He took a few steps away, stopping in front of the younger of the middle-aged gentlemen. He was crying, sobbing even; a true sign of a hopelessly broken man. Ian got down on one knee in front of him, and dipped his head down so the man could see him clearly. "Lucas," he said softly, patiently. When he only received more stifled sobs in response, Ian flicked the blood that was on his left hand into Lucas' face. He repeated the name, more firmly this time, and got an acknowledgement in the form of a blank, dead-eyed stare. "I need you not to interrupt me when I'm talking, Lucas. It's very rude."<br/><br/>"...tmmns," the man mumbled under his breath.<br/><br/>"Mumbling is rude too, Lucas, you'll need to speak up for me."<br/><br/>The man raised his head to look directly at Ian. He seemed reluctant to repeat himself, but Ian was patient and waited it out. Finally, he relented. "My name... it's Thomas."<br/><br/>Ian stared at him blankly for a second, almost not even registering what he'd said, before laughing. He pinched the bridge of his nose with the clean hand as the laughter died down, and he nodded vigorously in understanding. "It is, isn't it?" he agreed, a few renegade chuckles slipping passed his lips. His eyes sparkled with delight and he put his bloodstained hand on the man's cheek. "And what an impression you must have made on me then, Thomas, if I can't even remember your name."<br/><br/>He wiped the rest of the blood off on Thomas' face and stood back up again, spinning on his heel to address Kian again. "I suppose you'll be wanting some water soon. When's the last time you had anything to eat?" Again, he was nothing if not polite.