Who: Aiden, Lone, Deirdre, Joss, and Anya. What: Jailtime for the five people who picked the wrong door to run out. Where: A Chicago jail, two separate cells. When: Between 1 and 2 in the morning after the raid Warnings: Probably nothing extensive.
In his entire life, Aiden had never been to jail. He'd nearly been, once, back in the early days of grad school, but other than that he'd only viewed them from the outside. It had been a fine arrangement. He didn't break the law (noticeably), he didn't go to jail. So he'd never imagined that he'd be locked up for something like being in a bar, but then again he'd also never imagined that he'd go back in time to the late 20s.
So here they were. Five of them, set in two separate cells, one holding him and the man called Lone, the other housing the three women. He sat with his back to the wall and his elbows on his knees, fingers pressed to his forehead to try and preemptively stop the flood of what would inevitably a headache, and possibly try to silence a certain old man who was chiding him for all manner of things. He managed to silence that momentarily by reminding Van Helsing just who it was that said going out the front door was the best possible idea.
"Did anyone bother to ask what the date was?" he said after some time of silence between the lot of them, not caring enough to look up at anyone. He was way too tired to deal with this kind of thing right now.