[ That's not exactly what Ian expected him to use it for, but seeing it - it's pretty genius. Considering any goddamn thing seems to trigger things into motion, sticking his fucking head down that tunnel might've had something screaming like a banshee running down after them. Or - there was this movie he saw once, with these people in a mansion and Owen Wilson in a fireplace, and this massive stone lion swung past and lobbed his head clean off.

Mirror's definitely the better call.

Tempted as he is to look, curious as he is, one of them needs to be watching their back. It'll be him, scoping the path behind them and occasionally shooting a furtive glance at the opposite tunnel.

Mace unlinks, Ian panics for a split second with his fingers going for wrist-- and Mace catches it, the quickest whiplash of relief Ian's felt since they made it through that door. God, if he needs a way to know whether or not something's wrong with either of them it might be to see if they willingly detach. Doesn't seem like either of them are equipped to handle letting go anymore.

With his head smashed in like a- ]

It's dripping.

[ He says, which... it may not mean enough right off, and it takes him a second to find the words to elaborate. ]

It's dripping, coagulated blood doesn't drip. It's gotta be... I don't know, less than twenty minutes old. Could be much less than twenty minutes old.

[ Meaning, that guy just died. Meaning, something or someone just killed him. Mace heard another door earlier. He curls his fingers more tightly around the crowbar, licks his lips trying to think. ]

You heard music, but you didn't hear any yelling. Sure as shit doesn't sound like how he killed Mary either. Fuck, I hope this isn't a ploy, but--

[ He flicks his eyes to the other tunnel. ]

Occam's razor.

[ Right? Fuck the head-bashing tunnel and whoever or whatever's doing the fucking bashing. ]