survival, like a wayward girl, will still be coy -*`

...

Eurgh, Fuck me, that hurts.

[The groan that crackles into existence over the feed is a thoroughly pained one, punctuated by heavy breathing and a wet, slippery sound. There's a beat of silence.]

... the fuck is... Lenny? Ellie?

[The noises that follow are quiet but audible, rushed and frantic. There's the sound of heavy, skittering footsteps that fade and rise in volume in a discordant manner, as if someone is running - wait, no. Pacing - wait, no. Running, yes. Definitely running back and forth.]

... a temple? Shit shit, lost 'em. Lost - gotta rendezvous back at...

[His voice trails off into quiet muttering, the sound of rustling paper nearly inaudible on the line. He's not far from the communicator but he's yet to find it, obviously too busy trying to make sense of which way is up. There's panic and confusion in what can be heard of all that rustling, and an implied will to defend himself should anyone approach him too quickly.]

... gotta be shitting me. Central Park? Unlikely... oh shit, some kind of ... preserve...?