If looks could kill Jace would be dead when he stood up, Florence flinching due to the noise. He gave an irritated look. Communicate with them? What was he supposed to do, learn sign language? Speak in Morse code? He sighed, but nonetheless picked his head up from the table. 

Looking at the other two subjects in the room, he suddenly found himself staring at the sentient mass of flesh on a person's back. What the hell was that thing? Of all the things they could have done to him, he found himself glad it wasn't that. If he had even a shred of luck they wouldn't turn their attention onto him.

His six-foot four-inch frame fought with him as he forced himself up. He felt his energy would be much better spent trying to ignore everyone else in the room as he went back to sleep, but he knew by now that it was best to do what he was being asked of. Florence lumbered over to the serving area, only taking a single clementine. If he was hungry, he was too nauseous to care. He absently tossed the clementine back and forth and took his chair back. 

It was obvious he was procrastinating on talking to the white haired kid. How was he even supposed to start? It's not like he could speak past simple words, and even those intensified his migraine to think about. He only started thinking about it once he finished peeling his fruit, and even then just sat there for a good five minutes staring at it. 

Eventually it seemed as if he gave up the hope to get out of any communication. He slouched back in his chair, staring at the other until they caught their attention, and once they did they gestured for them to come over. If they didn't come over, he knew he wouldn't get up himself to go greet them. It was hard enough to get up and walk by himself once in the harsh light, he wasn't about to put himself through that again so soon.