It became intensely clear that whoever the guy with the neat handwriting was, he lived alone.  Or at least, without female companionship.  Not that the clothes in the bedroom closet were scraggly or anything, but... they were definitely for the male gender, a bit worn, and not her size at all.  Ah well, better than nothing--and one pair of jeans had a belt with enough holes to suit her needs.  Even if the pants themselves did look ridiculous on her small-ish frame.  And the tee... well, that was nightgown material as far as she was concerned, but it would do.
        Finding the kitchen was amusingly easy--she merely followed the light she'd spotted earlier.  Upon strolling in, she was absolutely taken aback by the view: the wall to the left, across from the dining area and between various large appliances, was nearly all glass paneled.  It allowed an inspired view of lush forest and a small pond, making her wonder (when she was able to think coherently again) just where the hell she'd been taken to.  Not that she cared with a view like that.
        The quiet click of earthenware coffee cup against a wooden surface grabbed her attention, turning her eyes to the dining table across from the glass wall.  Ah, there he was; looking disheveled and English still.  She paused to get a better look at him, instantly understanding she'd never seen him before in her life.  Blue eyes to go with that brown hair.  Young... but older than she was.  Late twenties, probably.
        With a slight wave and a bit of a sleepy smile, he greeted her.  And it was then that she noticed the smell of something that had been missing from her life for many years.  "Shit."  She commented with absolutely no self consciousness, spotting the scented delicacy on the table.  "Waffles."
        He gave her an uncertain but wider smile, hoping that hadn't been a bad reaction.  He felt kind of stupid for not asking her what she wanted...
        "I haven't had waffles in years."  She continued, a little uncertain of whether she should invite herself to sit at the table.
        He did the inviting for her, indicating the chair to his left so she could admire the outside scene head-on.  Good thing he'd guessed right about breakfast.  As she sat, he pointed to the decanter on the counter.
        "Coffee?" she asked for him.  When he nodded, she found herself glad the communication didn't seem quite as awkward as it had at 2:30 that morning.  "Uh, yes.  If you have extra, that is."
        He made a spoon stirring motion with his fingers, hoping she'd get his intention.  Not that he exactly had much in the way of coffee additives...
        She titled her head, pondering his pantomime for a moment, then it clicked.  "Oh.  No, plain black."
        He gave her a thumbs-up.  That was how he drank it, too.  No need to take the edge off when you relied so desperately on that edge.  Lifting, he got the proper cup and plate as she zoned out at the peacefulness of the landscape.  How... different.  She was way too used to cities and their squalor.
        It was all she could do not to leap up and grasp madly at the waffles once plate, utensils and syrup were placed in front of her--but she found it in her to control herself.  For the moment.  It was the coffee she needed first.  Caffeine had kinda been "forbidden" (and out of the question) since she'd run from the last foster home.  With a tone of something like awe, she most sincerely offered, "Thank you."
        He nodded, glad to see her acting like a perfectly normal human being.  Her hands were shaking just a little... but that was an effect of the drug.  Mixed with, no doubt, the Good Doctor's crappy food.  Whatever was in that stuff was better off left on the plate.  She certainly ate like she'd been in the presence of said "food" for a while.  Taking out a note pad, he decided some conversation was in order.
        She watched out of the corner of her eye as she devoured more waffles than she thought she had any business to.  But screw that--hunger was something she hadn't had the pleasure of stamping out for what seemed like an awfully long time.  As the first bit of written dialog was passed in front of her, she took a nice, long swig of coffee and sighed with astounding happiness.  It didn't take much, really.
        On the page was written, "Sleep well?"
        That took a moment of thought.  She made eye contact with her response, curious to see how he interacted with her.  She'd learned through trial and error that one could detect early warning signs of psychosis and abusive behavior.  "As could be expected, I guess."  She replied honestly.  "But yeah.  Pretty well."
        He took the pad back only long enough to write, "And what should I call you?"
        "Allison."  She surrendered.  "But Ally is better.  Far better."
        "Nicholas.  But I like Nick."
        Aaaahh.  Common ground.  Even better on a syrup and caffeine high.  It was time to get some answers, however.  Hazy as the images were, she was pretty certain that he had been the human-like blur right before she fell into unconsciousness.  Might as well venture a guess and see what she could dig up.  "Why'd you bother to get me out of there?"
        To the chase, he noted.  Good.  It'd be easier with her asking the questions than it would be with him trying to explain.  "I saw what he was about to do.  It's not a pleasant thing to watch."
        She really wasn't certain he'd answered her question.  But that wasn't terribly important then.  "And what's your connection?"
        He smiled bitterly, turning his head for a moment as though he were trying not to show her his emotion. "I was the doc's favorite, I think."  He wrote in dark lines, hand feeling a little heavy all of a sudden.  "The Good Doctor had "big plans" for me."
        "The Good Doctor."  She read out loud.  "Yeah, that... says it all."  Even if she were still hungry, she was sure her appetite would have disappeared after that.  "So, this... mute stuff..."
        Eeeh.  He wasn't quite ready for that one yet.  "I just... I don't talk."
        That was... interesting.  Maybe curiosity was getting the best of her as usual, but... "Why not?"
        How to put that... "It's not... a nice sound."
        Good enough reason, she supposed.  "Are you a reverse-Siren?"
        He picked up on her natural smartass tendencies, giving her a grin.  "Something like that, I suppose."
        Well, she didn't want to push, really... but something about the whole situation drove her to want to know more.  Make her feel like she needed to know more, as if it was all connected to what she'd just been through.  "But you can talk, right?"
        He nodded, unprepared for where things seemed to be going.  He wasn't sure exactly what she'd seen over there...
        And still, recognizing his nervous expression, that need to know kept running forward.  "Care to give a sample?" ran from her mouth before she knew it.  "That is, unless you really don't want to.  Then I'll drop this right now and just... shut up and take it for what it's worth."
        He forced himself not to laugh for fear that would completely reveal why he didn't want to speak.  It wasn't as though he... minded showing her, so much... it was more that he was pretty sure he knew roughly what her reaction would be.  Probably damn similar to his own when he'd first discovered it... and that was far beyond unpleasant.  Slowly, he scrawled three words on the page.
        "Are you sure?" she read.  While that did honestly serve to make her less sure than she had been before...  "Yes."
        He swallowed, far less certain about this than she was apparently.  He cleared his throat--a sound that somehow closely resembled an overly loud, half-dead "classic" car attempting to start.  Taking a slow breath, he considered what his first words should be.  "Well... hello, then."
        She was proud that her body did not betray what the voice made her feel.  Successfully suppressing a shudder, she tried to put her finger on just what was so horrifically unnerving about it.  It sounded like two voices at once through an amplifier, one in a higher pitch and one in a deep bass.  Both together, same intonation, from the same mouth... it was damn freaky, sure.  But after she'd heard it, and considering the oddly friendly tone it was carried with, it wasn't as bad as he seemed to want her to believe.  "It's not so awful."  She announced quietly.
        He smiled, bowing his head for a moment to hide his teeth.  "It's not... the worst thing that's happened."
        The idea of exactly how it was possible for a human voice to sound like that, in any way... it boggled her mind.  And then it hit.  "The Good Doctor's work?"
        "Yeah."  He admitted through a breath.  "That's... not all."  With a possibly moronic leap of faith, he looked up at her again with an uncomfortably sneering expression... revealing teeth.
        Admittedly, she was startled.  Even without his mouth open, two complete sets of teeth were clear.  Not just teeth--pearly fangs.  Each tooth was sharpened to a point, and not entirely natural... not his own, anyway.  They had almost a false metallic gleam to them in the natural light.
        Yeah, the doc did a number on him, alright.  "Favorite patient" didn't quite describe it.  Even then... Ally sat back and gave it much thought before she spoke up.  "Would you consider yourself lucky to have escaped even with all that?"
        Suppressing the shudder that crawled through him was intensely difficult.  Lucky?  Depending...  "Yeah.  Ironically."
        "Then no worries.  I've been a fan of horror films for too long to let this affect me."  She raised her coffee cup for a toast.
        Amused and somehow quite relieved, he gave in to the urge and raised his own, clinking them together.  At least that time he didn't feel like he had to hold the sound of laughter in.