Kyle had checked in earlier regarding a workout session; he's carrying his comm, but he hadn't planned to activate it unless there was trouble. It's standard operating procedure for him: paranoia runs thick in the JL 2.0, it seems. Thirty minutes of silence ensued, and then, suddenly, a rustling noise. He's home from his run and the link has come on as he pulled it from his pocket.
Music. Loud, being played over the high-end stereo system in Kyle's apartment. Then, in a horrifyingly off-key but spirited voice, Kyle starts singing along.