"Yeah, I'm gonna skip the lessons through literature that I'm sure'll be forced on me when I ask for a book," Simms sneered. He wasn't much of a reader, anyway, but that just felt like asking for Reginald to call him a meathead, which, he was, but it was different when he thought it about himself, and he wasn't sure he was ready to start fighting with the old guy. Not yet, anyway.
He sipped at his coffee, absently making a face after deciding that he didn't like how it was prepared. He drank it anyway. Coffee was coffee, and he could probably make his own in the batcave when Reginald eventually left. But for now, Simms just watched the guy, unsure of what to make of him. He was kind of a curiosity. "It's bullshit, if it's true about you," he said after a moment. "Getting put back in here. I was kind of hoping that I might get out of here and see my kid again. It's bad enough they built me a box," he pointed to the bars of his cell, "but the no way out thing, that's bullshit." Bringing up his kid still seemed like a good angle for sympathy, or something close to sympathy.