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Tim wakes up in a dimly lit hallway, to blurred vision and an ache in his throat.
His temple is sticky with drying blood, and he's not quite sure if it's his own or someone else's. The whole place reeks of humanity, of human blood and human fear and human piss, and this exact combination of all of these things abruptly tells him where he is, far better than his still-blurry vision can.
He's in the tunnels. Why is he in the tunnels? He did not bring himself to the tunnels. There is nobody here with him in the tunnels.
The last thing he remembers is... something attacking, Melanie with an axe, and then quite a bit of screaming. He took out the monsters, he knows that, but then why is he here? He won. Everything should be fine. Granted, exactly how he managed to accomplish this is still kind of a staticky blur, but there's no way he'd be so stupid as to blow his cover, right? He'd spent so long convincing everyone that he'd survived the Unknowing by luck, there's no way he'd have thrown it all away over a couple of weird, flesh-y, deceptively human-smelling monsters.
His questions are answered by the sound of footsteps coming towards him- the smell is human, obviously, but without the sharp tang underneath it that he's learned to associate with Fear. The footsteps are heavy, yet even- he doesn't even need to look over to tell that it's Basira. Why her, of all people? Granted, it's not like there's an abundance of options, because it's effectively just himself, Basira, and Melanie in the Archives in the first place, but still.
He looks up at her when she comes close enough to see- closer than he'd normally like her to be, considering the circumstances, but his head still hurts and his eyes still won't focus quite right. He thinks it's a concussion, or something, which isn't great. Not horrible, considering how his recovery compares to the humans', but not great, either.
She stops short when they make eye contact- or, more accurately, some approximation of it. He looks in the general direction of her face, which is probably good enough. The light in here is shitty enough he can't see the expression on her face, but he can't imagine it's good.
He can't imagine his own face looks good, either. He can smell blood, the human kind, and he's hungrier than he should be, this close to a recent meal. He's kept himself to the corpses of people who've killed themselves, found a nice spot and everything, because hunting has become an exercise in self-flagellation and hypocrisy and he wants no part of it anymore. Doesn't matter that he mostly kept to people he saw pulling shady shit, doesn't matter that he's always justified it to himself with the idea that they deserved it, because the way that things are going, he's growing a distaste for the whole 'killing' thing entirely.
Doesn't mean he doesn't still need to eat, though.
"How long have you been keeping this from us?" Basira asks, cutting neatly through the tangent his mind has gone off on. Tim thinks he knows exactly what she's referring to- he'd have to be stupid not to immediately think of the obvious- but he decides to play dumb, just on the off chance she's referring to something else. It wouldn't be the most graceful of ends if she was referring to some random other bullshit and he wound up confessing to shit that gets the Doves called on him.
"D'nno what you're talkin' bout." He slurs, sounding even to himself like he's got something in his mouth. Like he's just been dosed up on novocaine and is trying to talk despite it. Still, he figures he's clear enough, if Basira's scoff is anything to go by.
"Don't play dumb," She says sharply, while Tim snorts to himself. She ignores him- a wise choice in general, probably- and continues.
"I've met ghouls. Seen them fight, a few times- you're not human, and there's no use trying to hide it. I saw your eyes." Tim sighs at this- guess he really must've blown his cover, though he doesn't know what would've possessed him to do that. He doesn't even like anyone in this God-forsaken Institute, why the hell would he give them his greatest secret so they can stab him with it? He's not willing to die for them. He's barely willing to live for them, and it's not really living, is it? No, not so far as any of this qualifies as a life.
"Why di'n't you lead with that?" Tim still talks around his consonants, but he can already feel the fog peeling away from his consciousness. He's just awake enough to joke around with it, still, just awake enough not to feel the stab of panic he's sure is coming any minute now. He should panic, at some point, shouldn't he? He's effectively sentenced himself to death.
On second thought, maybe he shouldn't be surprised at the lack of fear he's feeling at the moment.
"Stop dodging the question." Basira commands- or, well, tries to command, given she's pulling out the 'officer' tone and all- but Tim can only think that she probably really wishes Jon was awake right now. Not that he's unwilling to tell the truth, of course, considering he's royally fucked either way, but Jon would've cut out all the preamble that she is obviously desperate to be through with.
"I don't know what you want me to say." Tim sits up more fully, so that he can stare her in the eyes. He doesn't blink as she tries to stare him down, and he waits for her to break first. He can stare for a long time, if he wants- no point in trying to intimidate him like that.
There's a long pause, and Tim's eyes slowly adjust and his vision sharpens by the second. He's stopped slurring, which is great, and though he figures that screens are probably going to suck for a while, he's probably as cognizant as he needs to be for this.
Now that he's slightly more awake and aware, he notices some resistance around his wrists and ankles- he hadn't tried to move them before now, but as Basira continues to not answer, he starts trying to do so out of mild boredom, and discovers that his wrists and ankles are both handcuffed together. Tim, predictably, doesn't react well to that.
"You fucking restrained me? Like a wild animal? You honestly- " He grunts in frustration as he tilts his head back to look at the ceiling, probably interrupting Basira's train of thought while he's at it.
"You honestly think that I'm just going to turn into a- a wild animal right after saving your miserable life? Which, by the way, you're welcome for not letting you become a skewer." Tim abruptly realizes that no, nobody thanked him, nobody said much of shit to him once the flesh monsters were gone, and though he doesn't remember how he got down here, he suspects that it wasn't because of any monsters.
"We can't take chances." Basira doesn't seem fazed at all, oddly enough, and that only makes Tim angrier. He's stuck sitting on the floor, staring up at this weak fucking human that half of the members of his own species wouldn't hesitate to take out in an instant. He still could snap the handcuffs apart- the tiny chains connecting the bracelets themselves aren't exactly bastions of structural integrity- but he doesn't. He's in a position where any sudden movement would be taken as evidence that he's proving her right.
"Look," Basira starts, after a long pause, "I know this seems unfair, but it's- ghouls are predators, humans are your prey, and I'm not trying to watch the food chain in action. Plus, anybody who's just had secrets found out about them is unpredictable, I've seen it enough times to know I have to be wary. It's nothing personal."
Basira stops talking, and everything about what she just said leaves a sour taste in Tim's mouth. Yeah, she's technically got a point, but can she even begin to understand everything that he's put himself through just to remain in their society? Why the hell would he go and have a freak-out on them now? In all honesty, he's the one in the most vulnerable position at the moment- no police department would interfere with whatever's going on at the Institute, Sectioned or not, but a report of a ghoul? The CCG would be on him like flies to a corpse, without hesitation.
"Does Jon know?" Basira asks, after another few moments of silence, and Tim outright laughs. It's loud and sudden, sounding like it was punched out of him, and he sees Basira's hand reflexively twitch toward her belt, which is probably where she had her gun when she was a cop. He keeps laughing, still, and doesn't stop until there are tears streaming down his face from the sheer absurdity of the question.
"Did one of those things hit you in the head? No, he doesn't know, or at least I never told him. He never said anything to me about it either, despite the stalking, but I cover my tracks well. If he miraculously wakes up and shows a sudden awareness of it, then I'll stand corrected, but right now? Nobody knows."
Nobody knows, at least, nobody living does. Danny had known- obviously Danny had known, considering that brothers tend to be of the same fucking species- and anybody who happened to see his face as he was about to eat them was probably aware of the situation before they died. Anybody else who knows- who he'd chance to say consist of Basira, Melanie, and Martin, considering today, plus Elias, who is omniscient and made weird and threatening comments to him after that piece of information came out, so there's no doubt that he's aware of it.
Otherwise, there's nobody; and, as long as Basira, Melanie, and Martin keep mum, there's not going to be a problem. Elias can chatter about it all he wants, since prison confessions or allegations are well-known to be bogus a good percentage of the time, especially coming from Elias Bouchard, a man who throws people under the bus just for fun.
"Good," Basira says, and it takes a second for Tim to process that. If she's saying it's a good thing no one knows, she isn't intending on ratting him out, is she? Or, was she fishing for people who she could consider as accomplices? He really can't tell- if anybody else did know of his status as a ghoul, then legally, they're culpable of whatever murders he commits between when they find out and when he's caught, so Basira could be letting the cop part of her win right now. He doesn't know- can't, until the CCG are called in or they're not.
"There's been... a lot, to watch out for." Basira continues, "I don't want you to become another liability. Though, considering everything, you might still be the least of my worries, so, er. Congratulations?" Tim listens, disbelieving, and snorts with laughter as Basira says that. Yeah, somehow, despite the fact that he's just outed himself as a guy that can only eat people, he's still not anywhere as volatile as Melanie or secretive as Martin, and as another plus, he's been like this the whole time. Nothing has actually changed, and considering how low the bar is, that's got to be a point in his favor.
"So long as none of you start acting like you're going to rat me out to the CCG, we're all good. None of you seem very edible, anyway." Tim says, offhandedly, and Basira visibly recoils- like she's just now realizing, despite having known about his status as a ghoul for the entirety of this conversation, that he actually eats people.
"What?" Tim asks, despite the fact that Basira is still very much in a position of power over him right now. "Melanie and Martin both smell like Fear, and if that affects the taste like it does their smell, then that's a giant 'no thanks' on both of them. Jon's a fucking stick, I wouldn't consider eating him with or without the Beholding attached. You- " Basira holds up a hand and looks away, appearing a little green, and Tim at least has the decency to stop there. Truth be told, Basira is the most appetizing of the bunch, which really isn't saying much.
"I'm- setting aside whatever you just said about Melanie and Martin, I don't want to hear about it. Just because I'm alright with continuing to work with you does not mean I want a run-down on how tasty my coworkers may-or-may-not be. I'm already committing multiple felonies right now, do not make me regret it." Basira says, brokering no room for argument, and Tim can understand her point. He can. He's not letting the relief of being able to speak freely cloud his judgement anymore, that or the still-fading concussion.
Tim salutes with his right hand, allowing his left to dangle by the wrist from his handcuff so that it's covering most of his face. That's still a better option than snapping the handcuffs, especially if Basira seems to think he's a threat- and, despite listing off morally-neutral assessments of how appetizing their coworkers are, he figures that that can probably be seen as a threat- since he really doesn't want her to change her mind.
Basira rolls her eyes at the stupid salute, and Tim puts his hands back in his lap. She doesn't come any closer, instead standing still and apparently contemplating something. Finally, she speaks again.
"I'm going back upstairs to talk to Melanie and Martin. They're both torn on what to do now, so I'll go vouch for your lack of intent to eat them. Don't move." Basira says, finally, and turns away. Tim would, normally, be upset at this- he's being held captive, and whether or not he's taken out back and shot by the CCG is apparently dependent on the definitely-less-than-stable Council of Coworkers, so the situation itself is terrible on paper. However, he doesn't say a word, because Basira turns his back on him, instead of keeping watch until she's out of sight.
That level of trust, to face away from him like that, is going to have to suffice for the time being.