A. W. I. A. 17: The sort of game it was

I'd asked the man who claimed to be a doctor what game we were playing, and he asked me what made me think it was a game.

It was all getting to be too much. I had been his guest for hours and he'd offered me nothing to eat; I'd only gotten a cup of coffee by practically demanding it, and at no time was I given a tour of the facilities.
It was all too much.

"I need to use the restroom," I told him.

"By all means," said the man who claimed to be a doctor. "Go ahead."

This was an outrage. "Well, where? Here?"

"I beg your pardon," said the man who claimed to be a doctor; and he did seem embarrassed. "I didn't realize you didn't know where it was." He pointed to some destination past the door and to the right. "It's the next door on the right."

"Well, how am I supposed to get out of this room? Don't you need to ring for someone? Or escort me?"

The man who claimed to be a doctor looked like he was pretending to be puzzled. "The door is unlocked. And I'll just wait here."

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