"Can't believe I'm stuck with you...." Rhyldaer growled under his breath, tugging once more at the chains binding his hands uncomfortably over his head. He glanced sidelong at his cellmate, that damned half-elf. Tristan, for all practical intents and purposes, appeared to not have heard Rhyldaer, or else was going a mighty fine job of ignoring him entirely, and was straining to reach his head for some reason. Rhyldaer stared.

"What in the world are you doing.... as if I cared."

This time, Tristan responded. "I'm trying to reach my hair, but these chains aren't QUITE long enough.... rrrrrgggh!!" *he attempted to pull himself up off the ground by flexing his arms, but did not quite have the strength to get himself high enough, let alone hold it long enough to get at his hair. "Er...." *he glanced at his hostile cell mate* "Could I ask for a hand with something...?"

The drow male shot him a look. "I'm afraid I'm tied up at the moment."

"What if I said I could get us out of here?"

Rhyldaer raised an eyebrow. "You're crazy. No one escapes from a drow prison."

Tristan shrugged -- sort of, considering his arms were chained. "Fine. If you want to wait here until your arms fall off, or until they decide to do something with us, be my guest." He continued trying to reach his hair.

Rhyldaer stared a bit longer, his glare both venomous and curious. "Dammit, what ARE you doing??"

Tristan shushed him. "Look.... I'm trying to reach the lock picks I keep in my hair, okay? If I can get one, I can probably get these shackles undone."

The drow stared at him a bit longer, as if he was crazy. "What are you, an escape artist?"

"A thief, actually. Probably have more reason to be locked up than you do, but right now I'm your best ticket out of here. You help me, I'll help you. Whadaya say?"

Rhyldaer studied him for a while, then eventually his expression soured. "It's a trick. You'll get yourself out and leave me to rot."

The half elf rolled his eyes. "Fine, don't help. But at least be quiet." With that, he went back to trying to get to his curly mop. Finally, getting an idea, he braced his foot against the wall and pushed up lifting his body from the floor. That, plus flexing his arms, got his fingertips into his brown mane, and before gravity pulled him back down, a shiny bit of metal was clutched between his nimble fingers. "Ha-HA!"

Rhyldaer, who had been contemplating the floor contemptuously, looked up, but appeared unimpressed. Tristan paid him no mind and set to work on the lock on the shackle around his left wrist.

For a few long seconds, little scraping, clicking, metallic noises could be heard, before -- Clack! Tristan grinned broadly as one hand was freed of its restraint. Rhyldaer's eyes popped wide open.

"Damned fool!! What do you think you're doing?!?"

Tristan grinned as he set to work on his other hand. "Getting out. Shut up."

Seconds later, his other hand was free, and he took a few moments to rub his wrists in the ecstasy of being free, before he turned and set to work on Rhyldaer's binds. The drow practically squawked at him.

"What are you doing?? Are you mad??"

*Click*

Rhyldaer's right hand fell free. He stared at Tristan. "Why are you helping me?"

Tristan smiled a lopsided grin. "Because I think this whole misunderstanding was my fault after all. Besides. I don't see so well in the dark."

*click*

And the drow rubbed his aching wrists as well. "Well... there's still the cell to get out of. And then we have to get past the guards... and back out into the city...."

"Sounds like fun," said Tristan, setting to work on the lock of their cell. Rhyldaer leered in mild disgust. "I suppose it would, to a curly-brained fool."

The half-elf grinned. "You've clearly never made a jailbreak before...."

"Never been in jail before," sneered the drow. "No thanks to you...."

* * *

Tristan and Rhyldaer, shirtless, chained up in a drowish prison. Why are they shirtless? I don't know. For the sheer sake of wow this is fun. Why are they there and what exactly happened? I don't know that either. Any ideas?