"Not a damn thing here either."
The Ork Hunter grinned under his hood when that unmistakable Catachan accent reached his ears. He'd made a number of friends among the Catachan Jungle Fighters when they were brought to the jungles in the Third War for Armageddon. He knew them to be reliable in a fight and relentless. Catachans were second only to other Ork Hunters on his list of favorite allies but that also made them his favorite rivals.
"A Catachan, eh? Well all-fuckin'-right, now we're in business!" Grett laughed and he could be heard shifting as much as his bonds would allow. "Gimme a minute here and then the lot of us can go crack some skulls on the way out, how's that sound?"

As difficult as it was to escape the stress position, it wouldn't be impossible. Orks like to take slaves every now and then so every Ork Hunter was given a bit of training in how to escape bonds. In keeping with the usual savagery of Ork Hunters, it wasn't pretty. There was a loud pop as Grett wrenched his left thumb out of its socket. The Ork Hunter hissed with pain and swore colorfully under his breath. He hadn't wanted to disable his thumb unless he had a plan and now he had one which mostly involved murder and escape so far. He began wiggling his left hand and using his remaining fingers to ease the restraints off his wrist, giving a small grunt of pain every now and then. Already he could tell this would take a bit more than a minute but it'd be worth it eventually.

"So, in the mean time let's all get to know each other. What's everyone's favorite color? Mine's purple."
His attempt a conversation was as much a means to pass time as it was a distraction from pain.