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Fortunately, there were grooves in the moldy stone under their feet -- providing some traction as well -- and revealing that the stone floor was, in fact, made of squareish cobblestones. The stone looked as forgotten as everything else here: it hadn't been scrubbed or polished in ages and in places the divisions between stones in the floor had been worn down to smoothness. Even so, there were parallel rows of grooves that crosshatched the floor. The rats had run directly parallel to one set of rows.

Ian crouched when Tony paused, looking for ... some way of tracking the rats. He had spent a few years in boy scouts, but that was back when he was young enough for the troop to learn anything particularly interesting or useful, but following tracks seemed like a logical thing to try. The rats had left evidence of their passing, little scrabbling claw marks in the scum on the floor, and he noticed the grooves in the floor as well, right about when he heard Abigail fall.

Standing straight again, he turned around and held the torch up again to try to offer her some of its feeble light. "Are you okay?" he asked her, casting a concerned look at her shoes. The red-haired boy had long wondered how ladies walked on anything while wearing heels, but his thoughts followed hers on the issue of wanting to go barefoot on this floor.

The prospect of a dragon was not one he had considered, mostly because he had been worried enough about wandering skeletons. It was not a settling addition, though. The news reports had brought him to believe in monsters just enough to have to worry about that, too, especially after he had already awakened in a strange dungeon-looking place. Something was clearly wrong here, and whoever had kidnapped them and brought them here ... well, for starters, certainly had enough space down here. And had put a considerable amount of effort into building a dungeon.

"I dunno, wouldn't a dragon eat a lot, though?" he replied, frowning. He scuffed at the crud on the stones with his shoes, perpendicular to the grooves, half curious to see what else was under the film of goo and half just to buy time to give Abigail a chance to dust herself off. "And we found uh." Ian swallowed, stomach turning at the thought. "Bodies. That looked like they hadn't been really eaten by anything. Or at least not torn apart. Like how a dragon might eat them."

... Wow, he had never really had to think something like that out so thoroughly. And hoped he would not need to again.

"Are you ready to keep going?" he inquired after a moment. The boy put one hand against the wall for balance as he kept rubbing his foot over the stones, trying to clear the scum off of a strip of floor all the way across the passage way, to see at least if there was anything else worth noting under the layer of dirt. The rat tracks followed one of the rows made by the grooves exactly, but he supposed it could have been coincidence - if there was anything written or whatever on the floor, it was not like the rats could read it. Still, if he had a moment to wait for Abigail, Ian was still curious.

Soon the rat tracks scattered in another general direction, difficult to follow exactly, but it was clear they were hitting one of the walls of the dungeon within about ten yards -- or one of the walls of this room, anyway. There was a wooden door, shut, along the wall a few wall sconces away. The wood was old and rotten, but the door appeared to be staunchly closed.

Ian looked up from where he was rubbing at the floor, having gotten nothing more from the venture than a dirty shoe, and followed Abigail's attention to the path up ahead. A stride or two in that direction, and the torch illuminated a wall, and a door directly in front of them.

"We should get another torch," he suggested, pointing to the closest wall sconce to the right of the door. "Just in case." Then he walked up to stand arm's length away from the door, and reached out cautiously with one hand towards it before inquiring, "I guess we see if it opens?" Then the boy touched his fingertips to the pitted and ever so slightly spongy wood.

Before trying to push at the door, though, he stepped back again and directed his gaze towards the bottom, where the door met the floor stones. Wiping his fingers on his pants again, Ian pushed his glasses up and asked, "Wait, did the rats go through? Do you guys see a hole or anything?"

Stealing a glance back over his shoulder at the other two, he blinked at the sight of Abigail taking her gloves off. All of them were starting to get at least a bit grimy, but it seemed the only way to avoid that was to hover without touching anything, and that was obviously not possible. Ian just hoped to himself that, if it came down to it and they had to get dirty, the girl who seemed to be fussing with her hair and now her gloves would not refuse a plan of action because she did not want to get too dirty.

Though she did seem sort of overdressed for being thrown in a dungeon.

"I dunno what digested bodies look like, but I thought the bodies we saw looked like they had just been left down here," he replied to her, wondering how one might be able to tell whether or not there was a dragon on the other side of the door.

Ian returned his attention to the door and prodded at the bottom with the toe of his shoe. When he got out of here, he was certainly going to need a shower. And, at this rate, maybe a new pair of shoes, too.

Tony kept his hand on her arm, just in case. He watched her for a moment, instead of following where her eyes were headed. When she said she saw something he looked up in surprise, squinting through the darkness. It took him a moment to spot the change in the wall, the dim light of the torches not helping too much.

Silently, he refused to admit that it was because his eyes were going bad.

He nodded, following Ian. He had his hand on Abigail's arm, leading her with him, guiding her so she kept up and didn't fall down again. When they drew nearer to the door he motioned that they should keep their voices down, with a gesture that was like pressing an invisible button for an invisible game show. He might have made the typical 'sh' posture with a finger to his lips, but he didn't think of it fast enough.

If they had been captured, there was every chance that their captor was on the other side of the door. He glanced down, to see if there was light seeping from under it, or if there was movement to be seen. He also leaned closer to the door, pressing his ear to it carefully so he could hear beyond it.

It didn't feel particularly lovely against the soft skin of his ear. There was no sound inside.

"It seems rather... locked," he said, tugging at the handle carefully. He wasn't going to yank the thing open, but he wanted to see if it would budge. He was already examining the hinges, remembering a pirate movie he had seen that involved removing the pins from the hinges of a locked door to get out.

The feeling of Mr. Darrow's hand on her arm made Zanazziite feel a lot safer. Not to mention a lot more steady. Hearing Ian's mention of the torch she looked in the direction he pointed. "I don't think I could reach that high to get it down." She frequently had that problem. The bluenette looked back towards the door and shook her head. "The rats scattered, I don't think there's a hole."

Violet eyes flickered to Mr. Darrow and when she saw his hand motion she nodded. Quiet, she could do that. She watched as he pressed his ear against the door almost afraid it was going to come to life and eat him. When he said it was locked she frowned. "Are you sure?" She didn't want to believe it was locked, so instead of just believing him she stepped forwards. "Let me try." Her voice was a whisper as she uncrumpled her gloves and put one of them back on. If she was going to be touching the grimy door then there was no sense getting her hands dirty if she didn't have too. Before she put the other one on she laid her bare hand against Mr. Darrow's side and pushed gently until he got the idea of what she wanted and stepped to the side.

Once the doorway was clear she put on her other glove and grabbed the handle pulling on it hard. When that didn't work she ran her gloved hands over the wood, tapping the door with her knuckles a combination of knocking and checking for any kind of secret compartment or something. She doubted there would be one, but they were in a dungeon, all bets were off.

"Maybe we just have to kick it open," Ian suggested, studying the door from a pace back while Abigail knocked at it. He stepped closer after she had made her attempts at tugging it open, and kicked at the bottom hinge. "It looks like even if we get a key, and even if we find our way back, these might not even turn."

Kicking at stuff so much today, it was a good thing he had sturdy shoes. ... Though, as he scraped and kicked at the rusted metal hinge of the sealed door, Ian realized that his toes maybe should be hurting a little more, especially since the hinge was not going anywhere. He only had a pair of sneakers, and some dress shoes that he rarely wore, and certainly not with a t-shirt and jeans - so why did he seem to be wearing what looked, in the low light, like work boots?

Maybe the kidnappers had taken his shoes? But really, Ian was not sure why anyone would want old sneakers.

Still, they made this work easier, he supposed. "Maybe if we can sort of get the hinges out," the red-haired boy said haltingly, between kicks. He held the door frame in one hand and the torch in the other for light and support, and focused on the bottom hinge ... until his thumb brushed against something smooth.

Was the door sealed with wax? Ian stopped kicking the hinge pin for a moment to frown at the blobs of grimey wax that seemed to go all the way around the door.

"That won't be too hard to break through, will it?" he inquired, sort of generally rather than to either of his two companions. "I mean, ah, I don't have a lot of experience breaking through doors, but these hinges should be the hard part, right?" He turned a moment to look back over his shoulder at Mister Darrow in particular, since he was taller, and asked, "Can you get the hinge on the top, sir?"

If they took the pins out of the hinges, they could just crash the door in easily, at least in theory. It was just a matter of dislodging the pins with all that rust, right?