Spotted, indeed. And Emporio finds himself quite immediately flattened against a doomstone as a result. He doesn't know where this is- he doesn't know, therefore, where he could run. At the prison it'd be as easy as the nearest pocket to the Ghost Rooms- the overlaps creating perfect little foxholes to hide away in. Potentially it'd even be as easy as turning a corner and pulling out the 'trash can'- a ghost trash can looks no different from a normal one after all. ...Well.

Maybe it's a bit more outdated, but still.

Instead, he's here. Here, and quite aware that the longer he draws this out, the worse it could get. It doesn't...have to get worse of course. (Please don't get worse, he thinks.)

But staying quiet won't help him. Running, even, won't help him, where does he GO?

So Emporio swallows. "I...I..."

Is he fine? .... "...Y...yeah..." ...Yeah, probably. "I... ...I'm okay..."

...

.........

.................he's not getting away with just that is he.

"...Where..." He clears his throat, trying again. "...Where...is this..?"