"Your guess is as good as mine. I'm fresh outta the gate. Portal. Wardrobe. Whatever the hell you wanna call it." Len looks back down at his device, which shows the relative locations of everyone else carrying a device. Keeping a close eye on those moving dots.

Swimming isn't his idea of a good time, but neither is being torn limb from limb by his ex-partner who is out for his blood. Len can't tell which dot belongs to who. He doesn't have to. If someone or something starts coming at them, he's jetting.

Mick would follow him to the ends of the Earth to lay the hurt on him. Underwater? Len isn't so sure. He was always a shitty swimmer, and hates the cold. Heat is his domain.

His attention snaps back to Jacob upon introduction, the corner of his mouth quirking.

"Jacob. Like the ladder." He rolls his shoulders out of his leather jacket, standing on his booted toes to push open the vent and stash it safely away. Sorry Anchor, you can't pull it off like he does.

"Fans call me Cold. Adorable, isn't it?" That's all Jacob's getting until Len figures him out. Call him greedy, but Len is more comfortable taking than giving away.

"We find something down there, we go halfsies. Deal?"