It's been a particularly grim day, even relative to the overall experience of being imprisoned. Jon Sims's execution is happening now, he thinks, and for all he'd wanted to do something about it, for all he'd discussed and theorized, they've not been able to stop it. It was foolish to think he could, he supposes - foolish to think that they could stop any one of their number from being picked off when it suited Thorne's command.

It had happened to Relena quietly, and now it would happen to Jon loudly. He feels it heavily on his shoulders. Nothing could stop any one of them from being executed. There was no justice here.

He's in the sort of mood where he's fully withdrawn, unwilling to expose himself for fear of allowing the hurt to rule to him. Suffice to say, Relena's appearance is absolutely the last thing he could have expected. When he first hears her voice, just outside of their cell, he feels like he's losing his mind.

"Relena," he chokes, not prepared for the sudden rush of emotion. Having been sitting, he scrambles across the floor to the bars, looking at her with a stunned expression - precisely like he's seen a ghost.

Had she escaped somehow? Had she been saved? He has no idea what to make of it, and all he can do is desperately rest his hands against the bars. He doesn't have anything he can prepare, after all. Only the clothes on his back.