Shut up, Charlie.

[For once, they are not broadcasting from inside the last rent controlled apartment in Manhattan: they are in Prefect's quarters. As is Prefect. And this does not appear to be a social call. Scrad keeps his eyes, and the gun-shaped object in the pocket of their hoodie trained on Prefect, as Charlie addresses everyone, stretching forward on his stalk to peer into the comm's camera.]

Okay. Here's the deal: we want off this boat, and we want off it now. So unless you wanna see something unpleasant happen to this guy-

[Charlie jerks his head in Prefect's direction. Scrad nods.]

-...I'd suggest somebody get with the getting.