Cas knew Regis was just trying to egg him on, but it was still difficult for him to keep up his act when everything the rebel said struck close to home. He knew he wasn’t as strong of a leader as his father and probably never would be. However, he had to remind himself that appearances weren’t important right now. When the founder of the Scourge was standing in his cell with a knife and whiskey breath, behaving as proudly as Atlas would just get him hurt. The pounding in his head and the feeling of warm liquid trickling down his cheek were proof enough that Regis wasn’t a man who tolerated having his patience tested. Even if the rebel thought he was a coward, he had to pretend like he’d given up so he could escape.

To his relief, the charade worked, and Regis finally left the room. As soon as the door closed behind him, Caspian slid down the wall with a long exhale and lifted his hands to his head to inspect the damage. Where the bowl had struck, there was a bump forming, and he curled his lip painfully as it stung in response to his touch. Unlike the injury on the back of his skull though, he didn’t feel any blood. There would probably just be a nasty bruise in a few hours. The cut on his cheek was similarly harmless. At the worst, it might leave a faint, thin scar, but as long as he was still mobile enough to run, he could worry about disinfecting the small gash later.

He glanced at the door one more time to make sure Regis was gone before his gaze landed on the glass of water outside his cell. Luckily for him, it was still untouched. He carefully and quietly rose to his feet to crouch down beside the bars. Having lost one chance to have a drink earlier, he wasn’t going to pass up the beverage a second time. He was already tired and achy from dehydration, and he didn’t want to find out how much worse he would feel if he went another few hours without wetting his tongue.

The process of getting the container into his cell was tedious. Since both of his hands were still bound, he had to get creative about shuffling it around until he was able to squeeze it through the gap. Once he had, he lifted the rim to his lips and downed the water in a few large gulps. It tasted a little like silt, but he was too thirsty to care that it hadn’t been purified. He just wished there was more of it, because the meager amount in the cup hadn’t been nearly enough to get rid of the dryness in his mouth for more than a few minutes.

[color=#b97703][i]At least I won’t die of dehydration,[/i][/color] he thought with a sigh, turning his attention to the bars of his cell. Now that he’d quenched his thirst at least partially, he needed to focus on figuring out how to get away before Regis sent anyone else to keep watch. Unsure how much time he had, he stood up against and began investigating the small space, mostly by touch. He ran his hands over the metal bars, feeling for anything that might be a potential weak spot. None of them seemed to be loose though, so he moved on to scanning the ground and the walls for anything useful. With only three days before his scheduled death, he couldn’t rely on the soldiers to find him first. As long as he still had enough strength left to stand on his feet, he was determined to find a way out on his own.