Coreplot: Interrogation

It's not exactly a shove, the guards' nudge that sends him into the small room, but he stumbles a little anyway; a part of his brain automatically recognizes the slight unsteadiness as a residual effect of the knockout drug. The door hisses shut behind him, with that extra chunk that means it's locked electronically.

There's no one else in the room, and no furniture but a bare table and a single chair. The walls are blank and featureless, and he studies them for a moment, rubbing his wrists and wondering which one conceals the feed pickup.

And then, because there's nothing else to do, he sits down in the chair to wait.