Flake noted that Raine did not respond immediately, to his surprise. As he wiped a bit of blood off his face, he saw Raine approach him from his peripheral vision. “What did you do to get thrown in here, and why?” Raine asked, her tone dripping with curiosity. Flake felt around his mouth with his tongue to ensure he didn’t lose any teeth, then he responded, “long story short: they think I’m a traitor,” with a nasal voice. He was gradually starting to feel the damages he had taken as his adrenaline drained away, resulting in a lowered capacity to retain a neutral expression.

The man had taken quite a few hits, but he had taken them well. The only signs of major damage were present in his face, where he had a black eye and a few bruises. His fighting experience and solid muscles absorbed the hits like armor. It was well noted that the hits he took were not made to kill him. His broken ribs were an unavoidable result of getting beaten, but his tunic was still fully intact, thus there was no visible sign that he took any hits below his clothing. He checked to see if his nose was still bleeding as he finished the last words of his comment, but pinched his nose again after a few drops of blood leaked out.

He then spat out a bit of blood which leaked into his throat from his nose-bleed and paused. Flake needed the time to collect his thoughts and suppress the signals of pain and fear running across his mind. With a somewhat retained composure, Flake looked over at Raine, still pinching his nose, and continued, “I suppose we are traitors…murderers betraying murderers.” He then looked towards the ground, where a few drops of blood had pooled, and asked, “how long do you think they’ll keep us here?” slumping forward slightly to examine the liquid on the floor.