Reagan rolled his shoulders back, stimulating blood flow to his arms. "Well that was different." He mumbled to James while they were led back to their cell. "Did you get the keys?"
James winked at Reagan and shrugged his shoulders. "What are you talking about? I think they're giving us fish sticks for dinner tonight! After such an enthusiastic game like the one we just played... How about it Pop?" James prodded "Pop" in the arm, but the meaty guard looked down his nose at him, and made a sound that Reagan was sure was a growl.
Whatever, Reagan thought and milled into the concrete cell that seemed to close in on him, looming in a presence that threatened to crash onto him. He hated it here. Reagan sat down on his bed, and stared blankly at the random assortment of posters and papers he had put up on the wall, absentmindedly trying to find a way to avoid the boredom that he knew would come. He sighed in frustration and flopped backwards, he caught Pheobe looking at him like he had done something weird.
"So Pheobe, how long do you think it would take for the guards to get him if, oh I don't know, say James or I lose our temper and start throwing things?" Reagan said while staring at the dank ceiling. Pheobe shrugged. She was painting her toenails an orange color with red polka dots.
"That's easy... thirty-five seconds. You should know that one by now, considering how often you do lose your temper." Reagan snorted and replied sourly to her remark. He rolled onto his side to watch her.
"Look, I'm not in a mood to be fighting."
"Sorry, i couldn't resist it." Pheobe said in a way that made Reagan think she actually meant it. James cut into their little conversation from his corner of the cell, where he was doing some weird yoga move that Reagan thought looked extremely uncomfortable.
"She's right though, Reagan, that's IS an easy one." He said, flipping his body back to a normal sitting position, Reagan wondered how he could do stuff like that for the um-teenth time. "A better question would be how long i could hide one of you in my toybox before the guards realized it."
"Oh you think so?" Phoebe laughed, "I'm betting seven minutes." She flicked a bit of paint on the floor and looked at it like she were about to scold it.
"Seven? You have no confidence, do you Phoebe? James, I bet it's sixteen." Reagan then sat up, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow, daring her to prove him wrong.
"And I'll go for eleven and a half. Right in the middle." James nodded.
"I know how to be realistic Reagan. I bet half my supper I'm right." Pheobe flipped her hair back and looked up at Reagan.
"I'll take you on that b at, be prepared to be hungry."
"You guys do realize that there is only one way to solve this, right?"