He watched warily as the sound persisted, slowly panning his eyes back to the officers.  Glad to be free of the cuffs at least, he nodded.  Cooperate?  This was sounding worse and worse... like they were trying to calm him down, not shake him up and bleed information from him... he rather preferred the latter.<br/><br/>At their question, he tried to play nice.  "Not at--"  the wet thumping again.  Like Mike the Moaner was really Mike the Meat Puppet.  He tried again, this time quieter.  "Not at the moment, thanks..."  Waited a half a few minutes for the noise to settle down, then fished out the now-crumpled pack of cigarettes and matchbook from his pocket, listening and waiting, and struck one alight with a soft flick of the lighter.<br/><br/>He wondered if Mike was, perhaps, mentally retarded... flinging his feces against the wall at any noise.  That might make sense.