The space was too small to properly pace in, but Rinzler certainly gave the impression of wanting to. When he first rebooted, he'd been at the door in less than a micro, testing the integrity of the lock through increasingly less subtle attempts. But there was no electronic interface to bypass on this side, and if he'd dented the metal with sheer force, he hadn't managed any more. When the damage to his side had begun to fracture further from the strain, warnings of critical threshold, cascade risk overwriting visuals, Rinzler had given up on the attempt for now.

It would be different if he had his disks. Circuits dimmed, tension curling down from the enforcer's hunched shoulders to his empty hands, itching for a weapon. Identity disks were much more than that, but Rinzler didn't want to think about what else they might be used for now. Code access was locked to Clu and Clu alone, but this ship had far too many unknowns already, and there was no way of knowing what had happened while he'd been offline.

He needed them back. He needed to get out. Go back. Finish things, however many threats he had to wipe along the way. He'd hesitated, with the user. His glitch. Nothing he could do to fix it now but wait.

And if being caged felt too familiar, he didn't want to think about that either.