"Wha-- Why? When?" The half-elf asks, his entire face pinching in disgust while drawing himself back and away from the very idea, as if it had spat down on all beliefs Esteban might hold. Considering his need for space, his desire for wide open fields and the endlessness of the saltgrass plains, being locked in a tiny room is pretty loathsome to him after all.

He is lucky. But more than just luck--

"'F you ever end up in a tiny room like it, I'd break you out." Probably as literally as possible. Ew, he still hates the thought of it. Even though-- well. The cabins aren't really big, to be honest. And Esteban knows exactly the way they leave him feeling trapped and cringing, every time he wakes up in them, even though he never really dares to fall asleep there.