Simms had never been so productive sitting around on his butt before. It turned out that if you're supposed to be in character as a prisoner, sitting quietly in your jail cell all day just racked up points. Minimal interaction meant minimal effort, which was just fine when the prize was a wild card. He was sure he'd have opposition trying to get it, probably most of it from ExB, but he was confident that he was a contender, as long as he was quick to ask for it when his points rolled over.
It figured that the freedom that he'd wanted back in Zenith would be the monkey wrench in his plan now. Not that he could even call what he was being given "freedom". He'd followed along with the private messages and a few of the feeds. He wondered if Owen and Cecilia and Oliver were losing points for their schemes. He hoped so.
He hardly lifted his head from the cot that he'd settled on when Owen addressed him. "Fresh air," he repeated, eyebrow arched as he chuckled. "We're underground, numb nuts. What fresh air do you think we're getting?" He paused a moment, trying to figure out the best way to pretend that he didn't know what was going on. He threw his legs over the side of the cot, then sat up, but didn't stand. Just looked dully at the two "officers" waiting for him to come along. "Are you asking me if I want a break from being in jail?"