Thread:ThisIsXenon/@comment-32273133-20190603230926/@comment-32273133-20190727194847

Percy wheezes.

The walls are lined with thick doors emblazoned with numbers. There are no windows, no bars, no way to see who's inside. The only light comes from strips of bare lightbulbs on the ceiling.

Spencer counts cell numbers under xir breath. "One ten, one eleven, one twelve...."

"how are we going to get the door open?" Trin asks nervously. "It's iron."

"I got it," Percy says.

"It's iron," Trin repeats. "So unless you've developed superstrength or something, no, you don't got it."

"You don't know me, Trin."

"Oh, I know you perfectly well, Percival Thamus," Trin's voice sours. "Don't talk to me."