'What do we do? Uh... we could go on hunger strike?' Duncan had never been particularly good at resisting interrogation. Pain was one thing, but the fatigue and stress weighed on him far too much. Dark humour was his only relief and somehow Heloise snapping at him made him smile. 'Oh, I'd love to shove it. It can go right up my arse and we'd be the best of friends... Dunno what 'it' is though.' Luckily the others seemed to be in a better mental state than he and began to bounce ideas back and forth. For his part, Duncan was sure that these cells were being monitored, so any plan they discussed would be shot down immediately; after all, its what he would have done. 'Let's see... Overpower a guard, steal the keys, then... what? Break out? Fight our way through a small army of prison guards with stolen weapons and no junctions?' SeeD or no, there was only so far you could push your body without magic. With the implied anti-magic field in place, any attempt to escape was doomed to fail, if only by attrition. He was about to elaborate on the point when he heard footsteps outside the cell.
Listening closely, he could identify three, possibly four sets. They were talking quietly, grumbling perhaps... He drank in every piece of information, knowing that even the most trivial thing could be useful later. Finally the door swung open and four Galbadian soldiers edged in, clearly scared out of their wits. 'A-alright... You guys take that side, we'll take this one.' For a long moment Duncan wondered if they were going to shoot them in their cells, until a plate of mixed rice was slid not unkindly under his cell door. He stood, painfully, to look the soldiers in the eye, noting their damaged uniforms and timid mannerisms. They clearly didn't want to be here. Maybe he could use that... 'Hey, soldier boy... Got any fags? I'm dying for a cigarette...' The nearest soldier jumped near out of his skin, fumbling to draw his sword. 'Don't worry, I'm no threat... I just need nicotine.' He did he damnedest to put on a reasonable face, mentally begging the others to do the same. Getting the wardens on their side could be a ticket out of here, especially given how badly mistreated the poor fucks looked. 'You sir, what's your name?' Duncan nodded to the first soldier, the only one to speak so far. After a furious round of whispering with his fellows, the man produced a cigarette, lit it and passed it through the bars. '... Sergeant Fresno, Galbadian Army. Y-you guys are the SeeDs, right? The ones who whacked the Prez?' Curiously, he didn't seem particularly upset about that. Duncan could practically smell the opportunity.