"Yeah, I'll bet your color is purple," Simms muttered, snorting as he walked past Oliver, and resisting his usual insult for the sake of staying in character. He started towards the door and down the hall, shooting Owen a quick glare but otherwise pretending that he hadn't heard his suggestion. He let the guy lead, though, since he'd never actually been out of his cell to know which way down the hall he was supposed to be going.
"Supervised drinking time," he repeated as they walked. "That's a weird idea. Sounds kind of like bullshit. You guys want to just tell me if you're walking me out back to shoot me now?" He snorted. "Because beer is portable, you know."