Don't Rock the Boat

Days. He was certain it had been days trapped in place that was surprisingly less dank than he was presently noticing. Time had always been an issue for him, that weird little voice that told you when time was up having never grown up. Who needs to figure out the time when you have a mother who simply comes in and says, "We're going here. Be ready now." It had not been his responsibility to keep time, just to look pretty and bag himself a rich wife, and he had failed. Failed! Not that he wanted a wife at all, but all the eligible bachelors he had known before he found magic weren't actually eligible because they were at least as poor as he and his mother were.

But now he had a job, and responsibilities, and he really should be paying attention to that instead of idling about, internally screaming at the (not truly) moist walls closing in on him while his boots-turned-rock dragged him deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper and....

Anyhow.

He was caught off guard by the use of his name, wide blue eyes turning slowly to Sylen. Figure out a way.... oh! He meant that they didn't need to wait for the murderous rogues above them to free them, they could do it themselves! Could they? He gave Sylen a long look, his eyes so deer-in-headlights he didn't even need to move them to take him in. He was handsome, a bit scruffy - admittedly those attributes equaled the same thing to the small man - and looked like he knew his way around his own hands. Uwe's were prone to wringing, delicate artist hands that never even needed to touch paper to paint. He sidled closer to the taller man, watching him hit the nail. "Are you... trying to dig a hole? With a hammer?" he asked, voice surprising calm and entirely confused.