As soon as the electric barriers powered off, Waver scooted tentatively closer, extending his arms so the stranger could remove the cuffs. She did not. Still, she disassembled enough of the mechanism that his hands could be apart, and the shirt could come off the rest of the way. Waver pulled his arms back against his chest once it was done, fingers curling over and rubbing at his wrists even with the metal bands still on them. He didn't try to use any magic.

When the tray settled before him, he just looked at it. He did not move to stand, either.

The question made him look back up. Although he didn't realize what exactly the woman was referring to, he nodded, the gesture almost grudging, suspicious. His lip hurt. His arms hurt. His head hurt. Everything hurt, in some way, a persistent, dull ache from the stress, the cramped quarters, dehydration, all of it. What a stupid question.