The cough had been persistent since they'd tossed him in the cell, aggravated by the cold, but they'd kept him alive. All considered a cough and the occasional taste of blood sticking to his molars and spat out over the floor was a small price to pay for a pulse. He moved to sit up a bit straighter and grimaced as something pulled again; shifting around too much had dire consequences but hell, he felt like his entire body would go into atrophy if he didn't.

His breath was fogging in front of his mouth. "... feelin' more awake. 's night out? Gets colder at night." He blew a smoke-ring of mist just to see if he could, then coughed again, wet and hoarse.

"Tell me you di'n come down here alone. Might have t' haul me out of this pit."