Kratos froze, halfway through writing down another set of coordinates, when Castiel pitched his alternative. His first thought was to reprimand himself for not having thought of that; his second was to remember that he had never used the radios before, so it would make sense if he were to forget about them. "That's not a bad idea," he said, bending down to reach for the radio at his feet. "I'm not sure how many people will respond, but that sounds like a reasonable place to start."

What was the public channel again...? Kratos fiddled with the knobs as he searched his memory, trying to recall the number he'd seen printed on the sheet that had been passed down a few days ago. It was something painfully easy, something that wouldn't normally be difficult to forget--ah, right. He tuned the radio to the appropriate channel, hefted the radio, and began his transmission.

Once he'd finished, Kratos set the radio back down. "We'll wait a few minutes to see if anyone responds; if not, we'll proceed with our original plan." He turned his head sharply as the door suddenly creaked, but the spike of alarm swiftly faded as one of the new arrivals quickly lifted her flashlight to her face to identify herself and waved. It wasn't someone he knew, but the face seemed familiar - a fellow patient. He exhaled slowly and turned back to the computer. "Speak of the devil," he said wryly. "Might as well ask them what their worlds are while we're all in the same room."