Prisoners Of War

"Hey!" Guntas smiled, "I was in the area on holiday - my school had a long weekend - and I thought I'd pop in, give you a hand."
 'Pop in' was a probably not the phrase she would have rehearsed, but Guntas realised that was exactly what she was doing. She hadn't been there earlier, she probably wouldn't be there later, so, yes, she was popping in. Popping in to help locate a twitter-friend and a super-delicious actor who could cause any fangirl within a five mile radius to spontaneously combust through the mere act of winking ... but still popping in.
"What's with the mask?" Shannen asked curiously, and with a tentative edge.
"Oh, it's just a joke Jo and I had a while back. We were talking about heroes."
"Nice touch," Eliza noted.
"So what have you two been doing so far? Like, how have you been looking for them?"
"Not very well," Eliza replied, "Really, we need some sort of neutralised tracker-jacker."
"Well," Shannen clapped them both on the back, "genetically modified wasps , out of the question, how are we meant to go about this?"
Eliza's phone chirped or beeped or dinged, something of that variety, interrupting the split second of abject panic she'd been experiencing. Gunts was right. They had NO idea what they were doing. How would they possibly find the cave hidden in the ground guarded by armed terrorists? She sighed and checked the alert.
"It's an e-mail from Joanne."

 Ben and I were wondering if it would be better to communicate via email, then we wouldn't have a character limit to worry about.
Anyway, we finally convinced the guys to let us go outside. Their guns are going to be trained on us at. All. Times. But we hope to hear them talking a bit more. We think that this is the step we need from hostages to prisoners of war. Never know, maybe we'll end up in a football game with them :)
I don't know exactly where yous are right now, but if you could stick around a while, we'll try to get some information

Shannen turned to Eliza and Guntas, "Looks like we'll be needing another night at the caravan site."
"Oh no," Eliza murmured.
"What?" Shannen asked, preparing herself for a violent machine gun death.
"It's karaoke nigh at the pub."