The figure in the cell, Jericho Cross, started awake when life came back to him, eyes casted warily forwards towards the only movement and sound present, the opening of a cell door. Strange, his memories didn't align to ending up in a cell, and upon closer inspection, none of it aligned properly. These weren't the cells of Istvargrad, which begged the most obvious question to be 'where the hell was he?'. The memories of a spiteful last stand, buying precious seconds for those who yet fled to flee further downwards and away from impending doom, ending with a massive, looming figure casting his men aside like chaff. Not the prisoner taking type, but as he picked himself up with a weary grunt, he more closely analyzed the two standing in the doorway of this cell. The lingering, looming edge of whatever...nebulous inbetween limbo he had been drifting in was still there, and was not something he wanted to consider further right now.

	[color=598527]"Well, cheers for the jailbreak, my unlikely saviors. A gypsy and an opera looking plague surgeon, when the hell am I...?"[/color] Neither of the individual's he was faced with wore any sort of attire close to what most in Istvargrad did shortly before and during the downfall. The purple reeked of nobility, which was another mark in the concern column, another once on top of the outdated attire. Outdated, unusual, and expensive, though he wouldn't be quite so quick as to simply complain. As his gaze shifted over to the masked one, he checked a pocket and, with a quiet sigh, produced a battered looking pipe, searching his pockets for something else while looking over the masked one. Strange gestures aside, another heavily outdated attire. Early mages wore similar garb, though not to that nicety, often times being little more than repurposed traveling garb for extra anonymity, though the mask ruined any chance of that, and reminded him of the plague years that he had, fortunately, avoided by virtue of being born after them. Stood out like a sore bloody thumb, all things considered.

	[color=598527]"Not like I'm in much position to judge, now then, business. You aren't busting me out of here in the sense of some altruism, you want something. Well, one of you do at least. I'm sure we can strike a deal of sorts, I'm sure my former employer would not complain too terribly much."[/color] Finding what he was looking for, it was a crude sort of repeating match kept in his thief kit, something he won in a bet and used to spark off traps and the like. More commonly, he used it to light the tobacco in his pipe, puffing on it idly, shadows concealing his eyes in part thanks to the hood. The flash of flame, however small, revealed a gaunt face under the hood, just enough facial hair to not be able to call merely five o'clock shadow. His figure, now that he was fully stood up, cut a similar picture. Lean, almost predatory in nature, never seen a day of ease, though the cloak and just loose enough fitting clothes concealed much more detail in the given dingy lighting conditions.

	Jericho was focused on pragmatism right now, putting the strangeness firmly behind him until he had time to pick it apart properly. Not like he'd be able to do anything with it if the two decided he was to be locked away again and they go and find some other useful body. He was close enough to the door that he wagered he could bolt if needed, though not knowing who he was dealing with definitely made that too risky outside of a last resort. What was also strange was that he had his pipe and other items, what kind of jailor left their charges armed? The same kind that seemed to not have to worry about it, given that lingering, paranoia inducing fog in his mind from after Istvargrad's last memories until now. Something was off about that as well, reeked of the arcane or worse, and it did not sit well in his mind. So, play nice, and look for a way out. Hell, depending on the business, maybe make some coin. Shadows knows he needed it, given the odds of him getting his hand on any of his old stashes were nil, he'd need to start over.