There was a whole lot of blood in the sink. He wondered why Ryan wouldn't have flushed it out before leaving. But, Ambrose couldn't focus on that. Instead, he focused on the boy hiding in the glass encased shower stall, covering his head. He pulled his earpiece off, muting it and putting it in his pocket,
"Hey," Ambrose started, gently, and pulled his mask away from his face. He didn't need to be Asylum. Not then. "Hey, are you okay?"
The boy shook his head.
"Don't come closer."
"I won't," Ambrose assured, "I'm not going to do anything unless you're okay with it."
The boy lifted his head from its hiding place in his arms. His face was obscured by the textured glass of the shower door, but Ambrose knew that the discolored splotches were scars.
"No - you have one too! Stay back!" The boy yelled, "get it away! I don't like you people!"
Ambrose lifted his hands and backed up until he was pressed against the bathroom door.
"What is it? What do I have?"
"They hit me with it," The boy sniffed, "and they say they'll kill me if I step out. They make people red with it. Click, click. Bang! I hate it!"
Ambrose was puzzled only a moment. "My gun? Would you talk to me if I take it off?"
The kid stared for a moment before nodding.
Slowly, purposefully, Ambrose removed his gun from his holster, and, holding the barrel instead of the handle, set it on the sink.
"Can I come closer?"
The kid nodded again.
Ambrose approached the door, then kneeled in front of it. He'd give him the wall between them, just in case.
"You're hurt. Is there anything I can do to help?" Ambrose asked, resting his arms on his thighs.
"I don't know," the boy sniffed, "I don't know much of anything. I just want to leave."
"We can leave," Ambrose assured, "whenever you're ready. I'm not going to leave you here."
The boy stared at him through the glass. "...thank you."
Ambrose smiled. "Of course." He didn't have any plan of where to put the boy, but he certainly would not leave him. If he needed, he'd let the boy sleep in his bed, and he'd sleep on the couch. He just wanted the kid to be safe from whatever torment he'd been put through. "What's your name?"
"He calls me Solis," he mumbled, "or Syrus. I like Solis better. Solis isn't a fake. Solis is me."
"Well, Solis," Ambrose began, "I'm Ambrose. You can call me Ambie, if you'd like," he suggested, trying to sound as friendly as he could. Keiren had scared him enough, and by the sounds he'd heard earlier, so had that green haired punk.
Solis reached out, pushing the door open. Ambrose had to step back to give it a wide enough berth to fully open.
"May I come in?" Ambrose asked, sure not to move quickly.
Solis nodded. Ambrose carefully stepped inside the shower, taking care to sit out of the way of the exit. He didn't want Solis to feel trapped in any way.
"I like you," Solis noted, "you aren't mean to me. You started off nice, even though you had the thing."
Ambrose wasn't sure how to respond, so he only nodded. He never considered himself a 'kid person', but he at least had some ability to be gentle, unlike Jackalope and, to an extent, Keiren.
