Gurgling, the flea responded slowly. "I'm not.... talking English." Sergent Williams slowly stood himself up and dusted some of that pink garbage off of himself as he squinted at the flea unconvinced. Though it didn't matter, the cheerleader punched the thing a few times in the face. "You've been given.... ear mites." That's disgusting, if the others didn't do what Williams was doing know (which was dig at his ears in a small panic even for a military professional) they were nuts in the head. "Can't... kill you, helps understand."<br/><br/>That flea raised up his hand and pointed slowly to a sign on the wall that looked somewhat French, no maybe it was Spanish, but certainly not English. It read "Throne Room This Way" and pointed down a hall. "Mother ship," Is the last thing the flea said before passing out. He wasn't exactly built for dealing with escaping prisoners but the alarm wasn't sent and no-one seemed to come around for awhile.