[he's not answering. Enigma won't answer, because none of his text messages are going through. It's not working. It didn't work. He's trapped here. Oswald barely registers the phone falling from his numb, shaking fingers as he slumps against the wall of the guard's office, sliding to the floor. He stares at the phone where it sits now, near his knee, silent and unresponsive.
He's failed.
He doesn't look up, at first, when he hears the door open. It's not until a voice shouts near him, asking what he's doing in there, that he turns to look, seeing a woman in uniform scowling down at him, turning her head to call for backup. He turns his head to stare down at the cell phone, as if he could will it to respond, to give him even a sliver of hope.
It doesn't.
It stays silent as, once again, arms wrap under his biceps and drag him off. He doesn't struggle, this time. Therapy sessions are still more rigorous anyway.]
end
He's failed.
He doesn't look up, at first, when he hears the door open. It's not until a voice shouts near him, asking what he's doing in there, that he turns to look, seeing a woman in uniform scowling down at him, turning her head to call for backup. He turns his head to stare down at the cell phone, as if he could will it to respond, to give him even a sliver of hope.
It doesn't.
It stays silent as, once again, arms wrap under his biceps and drag him off. He doesn't struggle, this time. Therapy sessions are still more rigorous anyway.]