[As the elevator suddenly grinds to halt between floors and the doors stay stubbornly closed, Jack’s stomach drops. Steven might not have an issue with enclosed spaces but someone on this lift apparently does. They kind of terrified him, honestly. Not near enough to keep him off the elevator all together but enough that the prospect of being stuck in here quickly gives him a spike of panic and anxious nausea. Clutching the box of files he’d been arbitrarily ordered to move from one office space to another, he groans miserably.]

Doesn’t anything on this junk palace work like it’s supposed to?

[Looking warily over at his fellow elevator captive when he chimes in, the nervous attempt to lighten the mood ends up earning Steven a scathing glare. Oh yeah, that’s just what this personal hell was missing, awkward small talk. Perfect.

He’s close to telling Curly to stow it till they’re in less danger of being plunged to their deaths, when the conversation takes a sudden turn into the slightly weird and he ends up blinking at the other teen like he just spat a math equation at him.]

Uh...Sure…[Numb agreement is all he can think to give for a moment. That was weird, right? It wasn’t just him? It almost sounded like one of Omi’s butchered colloquialisms but less awkward. Or at least, a different kind of awkward. Why space in particular?] Okay. That’s way too specific a nonsequitur to not have some kind of story behind it.