"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me." He swore and with a spasm of anger threw the roll of toilet paper against the wall as hard as he could, kicked the bucket and sent it flying to join the toilet paper with a violent clatter. He had thought the Order would be different. He had let himself hope. To expect better quarters for prisoners of the Order than the Dark Lord tended toward. But this – a bucket in the fucking corner – was hardly any better at all. At least the Order had thought to supply toilet paper, he thought bitterly. And they hadn’t tortured him yet. Small mercies.