He took a breath. The fabric across his chest tightened with the motion, pressing back like it didn't care what he had to say.
"For now," Elias added, "do you happen to know the time?"
Marcus sighed.
It wasn't angry—just worn out. The sound of someone trying to make peace with the shape of a day gone wrong.
"They shoved me into this orange thing about four hours ago," he said. "I'd guess it's around one, maybe. But that depends on where we even are."
Elias nodded slightly, just enough to shift the muzzle.
"Fair."
A pause.
Then Marcus again.
"So you want to tell me what's going on?"
His tone had cooled, but the edge still lingered—less fury, more demand.
Elias tilted his head, eyes narrowing in mock thought.
"What, they didn't tell you either?" he said, voice light despite the steel wrapped around him.
The chains didn't rattle when he moved—but the humor did its job.
Just enough to cut the tension.
