Kharrn shook his head and ran his free hand through his ragged mohawk, "They didn't exactly hand out lockpicks to us slaves. Not everyone can be a thief like you or the Khajit." The Orc dropped the rock he had retrieved and folded his thick arms across his muscled chest with a rattle of chain. He didn't think it likely Jo'ari had a broken leg since those tended to leave their owner stranded. A sprain seemed more likely though he was no healer. 

"Why not wait till dark then slip back into the ruins of the tower. You could use a belt or a nail couldn't you?" The typically taciturn Orc reached up and rubbed at one of the bone spurs jutting from his brow. Fire still seemed the best course to him, but he was a smith and a damn good one at that. He studied the lines on his grimey palm and concentrated, grinning fiercely as a small flame blossomed in the cradle of his fingers.