[The feed doesn't transmit any image, just the sound of an angry teenager with a thick and far from proper English accent trying to show the ship how many fucks he does not give.]

Fuckin' fancy prison we got here, yeah? Nothing like this back where I come from. No, you'd be lucky if you could even take a step in your cell. The guards don't give a fuck about the stuff they brought in with ya, either, [and he got his hoodie and a pack of cigarettes - among other things - so.] Is there anything else they'll wanna shove down my throat, though? 'Cause I'd rather take their cells than any more of that.

[He could throw out the threat that his family will know he's gone, but there's the very clear notion that if Miles ever went missing the reason would most likely be attributed to him having finally decided to run away. There aren't a lot of people who would bother to try and bring him back, which... would have been a good thing for him if they'd been right. Alas.]

The food's shit, by the way.

[ Things escalated quickly, as any meeting between similar kinds of their nature would. He supposed... but he wasn't supposing much at the moment because he's busy being in the corner of some room. His counterpart put him on his ass very fast and very thoroughly, let's just say. This was not like him. Not like him at all, but panic, and panic, and a side helping of - temporary - hopelessness. He did not care who heard. It would be forgotten, he hoped, in the wave of people and in a few days he would have himself picked up and all would be well again.

He'd have a plan. Until then...

When it sounds like a voice message is about to be spoke, there's some silence first. The device is on the floor. He knew he'd lost and he knew what was going to happen now. He, himself, just had too much pride.

Damn it. He had plans, too. Get yourself together, get yourself together, just. Get yourself together. It was the bifrost all over again. He didn't know what to do.

There is a slow inhale to be heard and then a quiet, numbed: ]

I'm sorry.


[ No, screw you. Two can play at this game -- close to heart as it is.

ooc: confused? good times ]

[Great, one of these things again. This was all feeling a little too familiar. A video shows up on the network, but Lisbeth's face is barely visible. It may seem more like an accidental video. The left side of her body is visible.]

I don't do well in confined spaces.