Stomach Pain

The opportune moment, which Douxie eventually admitted he had totally cribbed from The Pirates of the Caribbean movie (apparently there were sequels now, according to Jim), did not present itself immediately.

Then Jim got a stomach ache.

"Well," Douxie pointed out as Jim lay flat on the floor, shifting every now and again, trying to find a position that alleviated the discomfort, "you are eating literal trash."

That won him a half-hearted glare. "Shuddup."

"Fine, fine, no joking." Douxie leaned back against the wall of his cell, fingers running absently through the chording of the latest version of The Rose of Ambrosius. He'd changed it up over the centuries, redoing the melody and lyrics every so often to suit the current style of music.

Zoe had always hated the song, no matter the incarnation.

He'd missed fourteen years of music, he thought indignantly. He was going to have so much catch-up listening to do, when he broke Jim out of this place.

Assuming he survived the attempt.

But, well, if I die... saving Master Merlin's Trollhunter from this place is no small feat. He glanced across the hallway as Jim shifted again with a grunt. How could you, Master? He's but a child, and you took his whole life away from him.

Though not his whole life, if the mentioned girlfriend hadn't given up on Jim across the species shift.

A troll and a human. A regular Romeo and Juliet, that. Douxie sobered. Hopefully this won't be their tragic ending.

He took a breath, trying to think. Neither of them could do anything from inside their cells. And Douxie's magic, wizardly and vampiric alike, was on lockdown due to the silver bracelet on his wrist. So whatever they needed to do, they needed to do from outside their cells.

Douxie was always unconscious when he was taken out of his cell.

And Jim hadn't been, yet.

Wait...

"Do you think this is because of something they put in your food?" he asked in Trollish.

Jim turned his head to look at him. Seeing him now, Douxie wondered how he could ever have thought Jim was a natural troll. His nasal and jaw structures were all wrong for that species. And his eyes were all too human. "Probably?"

Douxie hummed. "Think you can fake being sicker? Maybe passed out?"

Jim raised an eyebrow, inquiring.

"If they think you're unconscious, they might take you for testing. And once you're out..." Douxie nodded to the door of his own cell. He was pretty sure Jim was strong enough to rip it off its hinges, if nothing else. Or to grab the keys off their keepers and unlock it, if his brute strength wouldn't do the job.

Slowly, Jim grinned, a toothy thing. Then he turned to look back at the ceiling. He groaned terribly. Belched. Gave a monstrous shudder, then... stilled. His breathing became almost imperceptible.

Douxie rose to his knees. "Jim?" Then, "Jim!"

He really hoped this was acting.

(And, he thought, if it was, he really needed to compliment Jim on his acting skills.)