(begging is right out. jonas heaves another sigh. he's full of them, being predominantly made up of around eighty-percent hot air on a good day.)

I am focusing. I've been focused. You—you—derailed me. (he's even gesturing at the camera with a finger raised. it's everyone's fault but his, keith.) I'm—I've definitely—I mean, I think I've done that. I-I'll try again, but I keep getting nowhere fast.

(is it "male feminist" of him to wonder if there's a woman around to help him out of here? they typically have better ideas, don't they? thinking back to following alex around, his stepsister seemed to have a solution or recommendation for everything they encountered. this is quite a bit different; what can he do on his own?

jonas watches keith for a moment, hand sliding over straight and warped mirrors, genuinely glad, despite their bickering, to see another face. while the guy seems standoffish, he's trying and that's enough.)

I tried using my phone's flashlight, and I thought I could, like, climb one of the things... you know? The walls are floor-to-ceiling, though, and any access doors I've found have been locked. If I had a bobby pin or something—ugh. It smells bad in here, too...