>Assist
Succeeded. There is a heavy metal click from somewhere inside the Musician's cuff, and he is freed as well. The Typist takes a few frantic steps to the Laborer and frees him in the same fashion. For at least a full second, she is able to breathe a sigh of relief, and perhaps, if she was brave enough to even conceive of it, [i]hope.[/i] She fishes her glasses from her purse and the world, though dark, becomes clearer to her.

The Typist has gained access to her Purse. Her two pockets allow her [b]Two Inventory Slots[/b] to start with, her Purse grants her an additional [b]Four Inventory Slots[/b] as long as she does not lose it.

>Recollect
Succeeded. "Thanks, those were killing my wrists" The Musician said to the Typist. [i]This isn't the first time you've said that[/i], the Musician thought to himself. [i]1988[/i]. Either Los Angeles, Vegas, or maybe even Miami. One of those palm tree cocaine cities. Gil sprung him from jail and tried to talk him into something on the drive back to the hotel. Maybe the bible, or AA meetings, or that green tea he was always raving about. He would have to think about it for longer to remember the fine details. But now wasn't the time to recollect on Gil. [i]Gil is dead[/i], he somehow recalled. [i]I'm going to live.[/i]

>Examine
Succeeded. The Laborer runs his fingers along the chains confining his wrists as The Typist begins to free herself. Something oddly familiar about the teardrop shape of the chain's links awakens a blurry recollection through his pain, like a memory projected onto a puddle of oil. Then it hit him. [b]Cattle Chains[/b]. He had put chains like these around the neck of a big steer once. What's more, he had seen these types of chains being repaired at a forge. "They coat 'em in Zinc to keep 'em from rusting." George said to him, muffled by his ringing headache. "Only thing is, Zinc needs to get real, real hot before it'll give, so," he continued, [i]"You gotta burn 'em good and long."[/i] The Laborer finished George's line aloud, realizing only as it left his mouth. The futility of the plan stung less with his cuffs being unlocked with a loud [i]click[/i], but the memory was of little comfort.

The Laborer has successfully recognized [abbr=40 inches of non-rusting, fire retardant chain. A lot of uses come to mind, none of them too cheery.][b]Standard Cattle Chains[/b][/abbr]. If he breaks them off the wall, they will take up [b]1 Inventory Slot[/b].