Childermass knows that it's only a matter of time before someone will come for him. Or before the police finally find sense and listen to their witnesses and determine that he really should not be there in the first place (if he had done something actually warranting an arrest, he certainly wouldn't have let anyone find out about it).
Therefore he's made himself comfortable in that free and liquid way of a man who knows he has nothing to worry about and is merely being inconvenienced with the situation at hand. As far as anyone who looks at him is concerned, he doesn't even seem to be bothered by it, though whether that's true or not is only for Childermass himself to know. Lying back, staring up at the ceiling, he half wishes for something to be able to pass the time with himself. So of course that would be when the other man should speak up.
He turns to glance aside at the other man, raising an eyebrow slightly as he does, but not really making an effort to go any further than that. He takes a moment to take in the look of his cellmate, to wonder what sort of a person he is. Analyze and file away just about every detail there is to notice about him before he speaks up. "Depends," he grinds out, in his gruff, Yorkshire way, letting the thought hang in the air between them before moving to lean back on the cot once more. "I suppose I can think of several -- just depends on what you fancy." He shuts his eyes, heaving out a deep sigh. "Though if you start up with any singing, humming, and/or whistling, we are going to have a problem, you and I."
JAIL.
Therefore he's made himself comfortable in that free and liquid way of a man who knows he has nothing to worry about and is merely being inconvenienced with the situation at hand. As far as anyone who looks at him is concerned, he doesn't even seem to be bothered by it, though whether that's true or not is only for Childermass himself to know. Lying back, staring up at the ceiling, he half wishes for something to be able to pass the time with himself. So of course that would be when the other man should speak up.
He turns to glance aside at the other man, raising an eyebrow slightly as he does, but not really making an effort to go any further than that. He takes a moment to take in the look of his cellmate, to wonder what sort of a person he is. Analyze and file away just about every detail there is to notice about him before he speaks up. "Depends," he grinds out, in his gruff, Yorkshire way, letting the thought hang in the air between them before moving to lean back on the cot once more. "I suppose I can think of several -- just depends on what you fancy." He shuts his eyes, heaving out a deep sigh. "Though if you start up with any singing, humming, and/or whistling, we are going to have a problem, you and I."