Ah yes, an adult, twenty-two years of age. Percy. (Your real name is Percival but that's long and kinda makes you seem like an old guy, so Percy is better, you think, at least.)
"I'm Percival, but you can call me Percy." you say, giving him a friendly smile, to which he only nods and stares at, expression unchanging. "And your name is?"
"Rhys." he states simply, running a hand through his raven black hair, eyes never leaving you, as if he was able to uncover your deepest, darkest secrets using only his eyes.
"So, er... Where are we?" you ask as casually as you can. Rhys looks like he knows his stuff for the most part so you figured trying to get answers would be your top priority at the moment. You ignore the other voices, outside your cell, as it seemed those irritated people from earlier still weren't done. Glancing over your shoulder a moment later, the man from earlier was no longer standing there, but you could see a teenage girl angrily kicking and punching at the air in a another cell.
You stared for a bit, but turned back to Rhys, who only watched you. "You seem more interested in her than you do towards the answer to that question." he states, but you shrug. "What's up with her?"
It's Rhys's turn to shrug as he replies. "She's new too. I suppose she's just the violent type." He said it as if people attempting to beat up the air around them was a completely normal thing.
Violent type, eh?
You glance backwards once more, only to have something else catch your eye. Something is glowing on her neck. You raise an eyebrow, turning back to Rhys, as you wouldn't want to get caught staring at some random girl.
"What's the thing on her neck?" you ask, pointing at your own neck as if to emphasize it, but stop when you notice Rhys himself has it as well. "Or, uh, the thing on your neck?"
The circular contraption of sorts glows black against the pale skin of his neck, and Rhys responds promptly.
"You tell me." he stated, shaking his head. "You have one as well, if you haven't noticed by now.
Well then.
You hands rush to your neck. And as Rhys had said, a thick, tube like... thing, was encircled upon your neck. You pressed around it, looking for a button or anything to release it, but your attempts were in vain, it was practically perfect smooth all the way around.
You're silent for a bit, unsure of what to say, but remembering the number on his only makes you ask, "What's the number on mine?"
Rhys seems intrigued by your question, but responds a moment afterwards. "Sixty-eight." He continues, asking for his own number, as to which you respond to with the appropriate number.
He seems to be thinking hard as he goes silent, not saying another word.
Oh. It seems his self induced contemplation time has given you a chance to ask yet another question. Go on, what would you like to ask him?