Stiles Stilinski

[Open Zero Spam]

[Stiles sits with his back to the wall in a cell in Zero, scowl etched onto his features. He can hear Jackson's heart beating from across the hall and he wishes he'd ripped it out of his chest so at least he'd have some peace and quiet while he's stuck down here. Being alone would be better than being stuck in the same vicinity as Jackson Whittemore.

He shuts his eyes and covers his ears with his hands, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths. He doesn't know exactly how containment down here works, but he knows that short of someone letting him out, he's trapped for now.

It's fine. He'll deal. He always does. He's not thrilled about it, because there are things he could be doing if he wasn't locked in a freaking jail cell.

He opens his eyes again when he hears the distant echo of footsteps approaching -- but whether they're approaching his cell or Jackson's, or if someone else is being locked up -- that he's not sure about yet.

So he stares at the bars ahead, eyes dark and narrow. Waiting.]

[Public Voice Post]

[He's never done well with boredom. After several hours of sitting in relative silence, he picks up his comm. The boredom is as evident in his tone as the sarcastic taunting.]

I have to say that if this is the worst you people can do for punishment, I'm severely disappointed. No wonder our barge graduates more people than yours. You don't even have an ounce of creativity.