X's words were cut off by the whack to his head and he jerked forward, forehead hitting the wall and a whimper burst from his lips, holding the bruised spot and staring up at Nike with watery eyes. "Nnnn, okay." He mumbled, looking like a kid and normally, he would've cut the person up for touching him, but this was Nike and Nike knew what was right. So instead, he just sat there, leaning against his brother who had moved closer and whispering back -- not like Nike couldn't hear them or anything, really -- "Yeaah. S'really bitter."
But the other two were discussing about stuff he really didn't care about, so X sat there, legs sprawled out in front of him and turned a little so that he could see the wall behind him okay, picking up a piece of chalk. Despite his better judgement, he nibbled on the end a little before boredly doodling on the wall.
Just scribbles and lines and then X's over and over and over again.
But he didn't need to pay attention. The other two would figure a way to get them out of there. Or he could when he eventually felt like it.