The scent of mold is strong in the air, a prison one could find themselves out of quickly. It only took a man to come by, deft fingers playing at hand and a sharpness, movements too fast to be detected by any human soul.

He was not a mere man in that sense. Even the confines of a jail cell could not keep him for long — one flicker of doubt and he'd be out in minutes, maybe seconds. A master at everything, given the right opportunity.

This time, it took a bit longer than he had imagined.

Paid to kill another, like most offerings to the Red God. A man could be faceless, skilled with the blade, but he was not on the art of doing trades that involved a timeframe. Reason one as to why he had found himself in jail — something not uncommon when it came to a job like this.

Jaqen's gaze flicked to a passing guard.

No, not this one.

Then, they flicked back to his cellmate — you, a poor thing who seemed like they didn't belong there. Then again, Jaqen himself could not judge by looks, for he had too many of them.

An idea popped in his mind, and before long, he was offering a slight smile, soft to the look, almost charming if he worked hard enough for it.

"A man can help a friend get out of here, if they're willing to help."