Eventually he has to return to reality. The bathroom is as much prison as sanctuary. He can't get out of this unless he faces it. But if he weren't a coward, none of them would have to be here, so...

He twists up his wet hair sticks a hotel-complimentary plastic comb through to keep it in a messy bun, because as sour as he's feeling toward his kidnapper, he is not going to go about dripping, and it takes hair like his a long time to dry. His borrowed clothes don't come with a hood to hide inside. He stares himself down in the mirror, wishing he knew how to look mean, and finally emerges, eyes on the floor. He's more sulky and uncooperative than defiant, but he's trying.