He really should have known better.

Of course no amount of should haves will change the fact that Dustin fell for the illusion hook, line, and sinker. He's not terribly surprised that he did - he's learned in the almost year since arrival that the Agrii's mind-controlling abilities are nothing to sniff at - but that doesn't make it any less frustrating when it happens. Especially when it involves complicating factors, like the fact that Dustin has a lot of fancy new tech to take home, and how one specific piece of tech can only be easily transported by use of his abilities.

Which is why he's now on his side, on the floor just past the doorway, his exoskeleton suit frozen in an awkward, mid-stride position, struggling furiously to try and wriggle his way out of the clamps holding him in place under a constant stream of hissed curses. He could probably use a hand, as much as he doesn't want to admit it.

Okay, Dustin considers, staring at the monolithic main door from a cross-legged, hunched position about twenty feet away, chin resting on the palm of his hand for so long that it's starting to make his wrist hurt. His mattress sits propped against the wall next to the door. No abilities, can't remember shit about how anything works. Not important - physics is still a thing, you know enough of the basics. Leverage. Just have to jam enough shit in the way to keep it from closing. Simple. Idiot-proof.

The only problem with this plan: Dustin has been trying to enact his 'idiot-proof plan' for the last twenty hours, and has not once successfully managed to prop anything into the momentarily open door, or even get close enough to try. Something always distracts him for just long enough to miss his window of opportunity. At the moment exhaustion is starting to get the better of him, eyelids fluttering as his mind wanders.

It's the sound of the door closing that jerks Dustin back into wakefulness. "--Oh--fucking, come on!" he wails, voice cracking as he stumbles blearily to his feet, glaring at the person that just entered like this was somehow their fault. "You've gotta be shitting me!"

Dustin might not have the capacity to remember every dream he's been in, or the experiences of everyone that's taken a tour through his own dreamscape, but he's aware of just enough to make him intensely uncomfortable about the whole thing anyway. For someone that's spent most of their time on Agra-10 hiding as much personal information from everyone else as possible, realizing that it's being served up to anyone curious enough to look, without his consent, is one of the most violating experiences he can imagine. The fact that they've been provided more than basic amenities - warm showers, kids' crafts, like they're all supposed to just sit back and have fun during all of this - is even more of a slap in the face. He does not want to engage, does not want to let them trick him into thinking this is normal, and most importantly, does not want to let the rest of the captives that have been traipsing about in his brain confront him about what they've seen.

His appearances in the main area are brief and deliberate. A quick run out to the bathrooms or to grab food, but only after he's listened at the door to his room to hear if there's been any recent activity nearby, slipping out when it sounds the quietest. He hasn't used the showers, doesn't trust the clothes provided enough to change into them. The bags under his eyes grow heavy as he tries to avoid the inevitable dream-filled sleep. Someone had predicted that Dustin wouldn't have enjoyed the Calibrations process very much, and though he doesn't remember who that was at the moment, they had definitely been right.