Derrick looked around his cell for anything that could help. A broken plate and a wooden tray were all that he had, and he doubted he could put them to much use. But it was still better than nothing, right?
"Well, I have-" Derrick began, moving towards the rotting tray.
The approaching heavy footsteps made Derrick stiffen. Something was coming, but what? The headache was making it hard to think, so Derrick decided to act instead. He grabbed one of the broken plate shards and tested its point. Not very sharp, but it could do something if he hit hard enough with it.

With a brief worried glance at his colleagues and the hall, he retreated back into his cell and stuffed the shard under his shirt before he lay down and pretended to be unconscious.