Bug meets twunk tiefling

Breaking the manacles off the wall is easy enough, just a matter of pulling his arms down from where they'd been hoisted above his head and the old dungeon's bricks go crumbling, heavy chains and numb wrists falling into his lap with a loud clatter. Bug massages the reddened skin of each hand as best he can, shakes life back into his fingers while trying to keep from rattling the long chain links that connect his wrists.

When he stands, the metal knocks against his knees uncomfortably, so he shuffles more than walks towards the bolted door, blessedly unguarded at the late hour. He tries to stay quiet when he tiptoes past the cell next to his own, where some kind of spellcaster had been thrown not long after Bug himself - the man had thrown back pretty hard, fire bolts and curses sending the guards scattering, but he'd been quiet since, so Bug's not ready when a fire-orange mage hand grabs him through the bars separating their cells, dragging him up against the frigid metal by the links of his manacles.

"/Lord/. Just what I need," the caster mutters from where he's knelt by his cell door, although his tone does /not/ suggest that he's actually pleased to see Bug at all, "a big loud brute running around alerting the whole citadel when I'm trying to /escape/. Stay still."

Bug, being pretty darn exhausted  and also held tight by a mage hand, stays rightly put. "Oh, you're escapin' too?!" His whisper isn't /great/, but the caster snap at him again, which is promising. "That's real good news. We can escape together!"

The castor sighs, more of a growl really, and pushes back the hood of his cloak, revealing a pair of large, chipped Tiefling horns. "I've got cantrips that'll shut you up, too; don't make me use them."

Bug goes to mime a finger shushed over his mouth, but seeing as his hands are bound and grabbed, it doesn't do much.

The clinking of his chains make the Tiefling caster turn to glare at him though, glowing orange eyes widening after a moment as if he's looking at Bug proper for the first time. Bug feels himself going a little red at the attention, especially when the Tiefling smiles, ash-coloured skin framing pointed teeth.

"Actually," and with that, the mage hand is dispelled, "maybe you could prove useful. I'm down to my last set of lockpicks, but I bet you could just punch this door right down, hm?"

The Tiefling stands walks on cloven hoofs, meeting him at the iron bars and giving a gentle tug to Bug's manacles between them. "I'll help with /these/ after, if you do a good job. Would you do that for me?"

Punching through doors was Bug's plan from the start, but it sounds so much smarter when the other man says it. Bug nods, cheeks warm under the study of those bright eyes. "Y-Yessir!" he manages, wincing at himself as soon as he says it.

The Tiefling's smile only grows wider. "Oh, that's what I like to hear."