[center][color=darkkhaki][h3]E   L   I   J   A   H[/h3][/color][/center]

The French woman named Mallory, taller of the two, raised a question that seemed largely overlooked by the rest as they laid the groundwork for the escape plan. Elijah's eyes met hers as she searched for him, and he replied silently with a nod, a small smile turning the corners of his lips upward, though hardly noticeable.

He knew time here was scarce. They were safe for the moment, but this was a security room, not a cafeteria or any such place filled with resources. They had no access to food or water, and the space was cramped enough as it is. With a lack of knowledge about people within this room, chances for animosity and tension were high, especially with the older man who seemed keen on quarantining himself away for his own safety. Sliding off the edge of the desk, he maneuvered past the others and back to where the brass plate lay. Bruised hand shaking from the damage, he slowly began to thread the attached cord around and through itself, taking care to knot it in certain areas so the weight of the plate didn't place any extra stress on the cord.

Before long, he had a makeshift flail of sorts, the extra length of the cord wrapped a couple of times around his lesser-damaged hand. Granted, it was flimsier than what he assumed a flail to be, but its construction and use would likely mitigate damage to himself. He hissed as his bruised hand throbbed, holding it close to his chest to keep it from shaking too much.

He looked up briefly at Mallory, who seemed to be watching him; for how long, he couldn't tell. He smiled a bit more, if only to lessen the seriousness of the situation.

[color=darkkhaki]"Name's Elijah, by the way,"[/color] he said, bringing himself to his feet. [color=darkkhaki]"Nice to meet you. You doing alright?"[/color]