Ready for the dumbest idea for a trust exercise you've ever seen? You probably are! Not like it's particularly shocking. But Sam's preservation instincts (or lack thereof) are remarkably on display in this one!

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October 10th, Sometime After All The Other Nonsense

Sam sat alone at one of the number of tables at Laurent's Cafe. This morning, the fox sent for him and him specifically. Apparently, it was a very grave matter, and upon his arrival in the empty restaurant, a seat was pulled up for Sam, and the door was locked behind him. So there, patiently, he remained while Laurent disappeared into the kitchen. He tapped an anxious foot against the hardwood floor, leaving the glass of water left for him untouched.

Finally, Laurent reemerged from the kitchen, a steaming bowl in his hands. He hurried over to the table and pulled out the chair opposite Sam, sitting down and sliding the bowl to him. Laurent then immediately, dramatically, rested his head on his hand and turned his gaze away, his body language suggesting that something very much weighed heavily on his mind. Sam looked down at the bowl, a steaming, glistening bowl of stewed carrots before him.

“I, uhh... already ate breakfast, thanks.”, Sam broke the silence with a hard truth, as admittedly delicious as the carrots looked, “You... needed me for something?”

Laurent took a long, pregnant pause. He took a deep, contemplative breath, lifting his head from his hand and looking up at the ceiling. Sam looked up, too, curious what he was looking at. There wasn't anything up there, particularly, just some fans. Laurent looked over at Sam, almost misty-eyed, although Sam didn't quite buy it. Laurent, hesitated, then began.

“...Do you trust me?”, he asked, as if to posit some deeper truth. Sam blinked, his expression tightening slightly.

“...With my life...?”, Sam countered in a bid to dodge the question.

“I need you to do me a huge favor.”, Laurent blew past Sam's answer, reaching his hands halfway across and resting them the table, “We're going to do a trust exercise.”

“Oh, we are?”, Sam's eyebrows raised, “Well... you locked the door, so... I guess I will trust you... okay...”

Laurent clenched his fists victoriously, bowing his head in reverence. He rose from his chair and circled around the table, ushering Sam up, and gesturing him onward.

“To the basement!”, Laurent directed, pointing Sam to the already-opened door on the other side of the dining room. Sam nervously cleared his throat before complying, pacing over to the basement door, Laurent closely in tow.

He stepped briskly down the stairs, the old wood creaking with each footfall. He could not wait to see just what “trust exercise” Laurent had come up with. But as Sam reached the landing and looked out into the basement den he'd visited many a time, he noticed nothing out of the ordinary. He shrugged and sighed as the fox brushed past him.

“Okay, let's do it. Whaddya got?”, Sam asked, following Laurent with his eyes as the fox rounded a corner.

“Do me another favor and step into the light a little more?”, Laurent called out from behind the wall. Sam obeyed once more, taking a step forward and centering himself under the light fixture, “Oh... and shirt off.”

Sam cringed, grumbling as he relented. He grasped the edge of his tank-top and pulled it over his head. As he briefly struggled to pull the item of clothing over his large bunny ears, he heard the quick footsteps of Laurent approaching. As he tossed his shirt to the side and looked down, he felt and watched as the fox, roll of duct tape in hand, looped several strips of tape around his ankles.

“Uhh... what the fuck?”, Sam sputtered, wobbling a bit as his feet were bound together. The fox tore the tape and stood up, mindlessly working quickly as he wrapped another several long strips of tape around Sam's shoulders, fastening the bunny's upper arms tightly to his body as he just stood there in mild shock.

Laurent spun around behind Sam, grabbing hold of his hands after terminating the tape binding his upper arms. He forced Sam's hands behind his back, rapidly encircling his wrists now, too. Sam teetered and tested the tape. Laurent had done “good” work, he could scarcely move now. Sam supposed hopping would come easy and be effective, but figured that even with his natural hopping prowess, getting up the stairs might prove too tall an order.

“This is the “trust exercise”, right? You're gonna tell me-- mnph!!”, Sam was cut off mid pointed question as Laurent slapped a strip of tape over his mouth. He let out a few muffled grumblings, shooting a justifiably peeved glare at Laurent. The fox remedied this, too, by wordlessly winding a layer of tape over Sam's eyes, and he was thrust into darkness. There he stood, taped up and shirtless in Laurent's basement, rendered completely helpless.

Before he had time to dream up what might happen next, Sam's feet left the ground as he was scooped up into a bridal carry. He grunted uncomfortably as the tape bit into his fur, his captor fumbling him a little as he carried him to who-knows-where. Sam felt the two of them come to a stop. He began to attempt to utter some intelligible request through his tape gag, but his stomach dropped as he plummeted downwards, Laurent purposefully dropping him. He winced, bracing for impact, only to land on what felt like a few cushions.

He tested and probed his new environment with his hands and feet. He was on the couch. Frankly, not a couch he'd choose to come into contact with for certain nigh-unspeakable reasons. But much more preferable than being dropped onto the concrete floor. Sam let out another muffled, quizzical grunt as he heard Laurent's footfalls trail off and leave the room. Now not only was Sam gagged and blinded, but also hopefully alone.

And as he lay there, captive on the couch, he reflected. Namely, on how he even allowed it to come to this point. And why he, of all people, was being subjected to this. He let out a deep sigh, resting his head and his erect, alert ears against the couch. What the fuck was this, even?! In a very, very roundabout way, he could see where trust factored into this. But if anything, this experience only served to make Sam trust Laurent less, specifically when it comes to doing favors for him. At least, when he made it out of the basement in one piece, god forbid, Lyna would share a laugh with him at his expense.

Sam took to counting to pass the time as nothing continued to happen. After several minutes passed, plus however long he'd initially been deposited on the couch, he heard Laurent return. The fox picked up Sam's legs, clearing some room for him to sit down before placing the bunny's feet back down on his thankfully clothed lap. Sam cleared his throat again, hoping to spur Laurent into speaking... or anything.

“...I'm sorry.”, Laurent sighed, “This is stupid. I shouldn't have done this like this. It's just... I feel some kind of way about how everyone's been treating me recently.”

Sam tilted his head towards the back of the sofa, rubbing his mouth against one of the cushions until the tape began to peel off. He managed to stick it onto the fabric and un-gag himself.

“...Can you tell me what this is about? Specifically?”, Sam asked, barely hiding his desire to arrive at the point of all this.

“I just...”, Laurent threw his head back, covering his face with his hands, “I feel like everyone looks at me and talks about me like I'm some... liar... or some sneak...”

“Well... maybe...”, Sam proceeded carefully, trying his best to verbally convey a genuine attempt to impart some constructive knowledge, “Maybe it's because you are constantly cheating on your girlfriend.”

“I'm pretty sure we have an understanding. It works.”, Laurent shook his head, seeming to miss the point entirely, “You know, I understand passion, and feeling, and all that... stuff. I can't deny what's real and what's true.”

“Okay, A. None of what you just said makes a lick of sense.”, Sam cut in, “B. Let me out now, please. And C. I mean this earnestly. I think you'll find... if you keep it in your pants... for once... and for a while... you may find people won't have the same hostile opinion of you. Now, please let me out.”

“Huh...”, Laurent pondered, drumming his fingers on Sam's bared, soft, fuzzy belly, “Okay. In return, I will trust you. I will...”

“Great, let me out now, please.”, Sam reiterated a third time.

“Oh, I've been tied up in worse ways...”, Laurent chided, handling and rotating Sam into a sitting position.

“Again... good friend of mine...”, Sam chuckled at the absurdity of it all, if still irritated, “Didn't ask about that. Please un-tape me. And I want... my goddamn shirt back...”

“Alright, alright, I'll do you a favor now too, then. C'mon.”, Laurent scooped Sam up again, carrying him towards the kitchen. Sam just hoped that he'd be using a pair of safety scissors rather an kitchen knives. But, really, he'd take anything at this point.