The stone floor wasn't as uncomfortable as one might think. In fact, compared to the other two dungeons he had the misfortune of being dragged into, Dragonsreach was a veritable inn. So far he had only seen two rats in the three days he had spent here, the place was well furnished for a prison, and the walls and floors were well carved. If only the guards fed him regularly, he wouldn't mind being in here too much, other than the very real possibility he would be hanged within a day or two. 

The mere act of letting out a frustrated breath caused him to realize just how much he truly wanted to live. He'd rather a quick beheading or an arrow from a bandit ending his life than kicking and gagging until the life was chocked out of him. He very much wished he had his sword in his hand to at least practice some of his forms to pass the time. He suddenly felt his thick mane of dark hair tickling his neck, the hair covered a handsome and somewhat noble visage, though there was definitely a rakish quality to him. With a groan, seemingly more annoyed he found himself in a deadly situation than afraid, he sat up and scratched his head. He felt both tired yet restless, and yet again lamented on the fact he felt like living.

"[i]Hmmm... now now, what's an Imperial like you doing down here in the gutter, huh[/i]?" a honeyed voice purred, reaching his ears. He blinked, never having thought he'd hear a sultry woman's voice in Dragonsreach. The young mercenary turned to see a shapely blonde woman gazing at him from across the way, similarly imprisoned. 

Markus fancied himself a savvy man, and indeed he [i]was[/i] most of the time. He knew a con when he saw one. The glint in her eyes and the smile had him suspicious at least. However...his stay in Whiterun had been particularly dry, and he was a man first and foremost. The spellsword did take a second to drink in her curves and smile, and realize one last time how much he wanted to live, and at this moment it was for a very particular reason. The unguarded moment passed quickly, however. He was still very intrigued at her interest, but he wasn't a slobbering guard. Still, after considering he realized there was no harm in humoring a lovely woman.

"Would you like the long version or the short version?" He asked, amusement clear on his face. After a second, he slid over to the cell door and, while still sitting on the floor, one knee up and one leg out, he faced her and held the rails, his sleeves sliding off to reveal toned and scarred arms. He shrugged. "I had a bounty to collect. Turned out it was more of an illegal hit and I was blamed for being misled. Slaying a Jarl's brother is considered..." He looked out at down the hall to the sleeping guard, propped on his chair. His voice grew both wry and tired simultaneously. "...bad."

Grunting, he pulled himself to his feet with merely his arms holding onto the rails, and patted himself off. "How about you? A woman as pretty as you is rare in a dungeon from my experience."