Itachi smirked, and placed a hand on her chin, and faced her fully. He stared straight into those peridot eyes of hers, two shades of green very nearly meeting. To onlookers, it might have looked as though he was going to kiss her.
But: "Read. My. Lips. Leave me tent alone." He smirked again and pulled away, turning around and walking away from them. He threw a hand up as he walked off.
"Ya c'n 'ave the bedroll, though. Th' tent c'n be used fer supplies." And then he was gone, Zamik and Itachi disappearing around the corner of the building.
_________________________
They were coming up to the castle, Zamik now dragging Itachi by the hair. He was actually wincing, and decided that Zamik was getting a cut from his share of the gold. He was being just a bit too realistic.
When they came close, a platoon of no less than eight armored soldiers moved to meet them. Zamik played his role admirably.
"Got this one here. Itachi, the leader of the Craol. Caught him running slaves to Essyrn a couple weeks back. My men ran down his group - the Craol are no more."
"Good work, sir. Been looking forward to this the last time he escaped...unfortunately, due to his numerous escape attempts, we're going to hold off on the bounty until after the execution."
"Er....all right. That's fine. My men and I will be staying in Ketra for the week on business. When's the execution to be?"
Itachi was paying close attention, and his eyes widened at this part. No gold, until after an execution? What was he supposed to do with that...unless...
He didn't have time to finish that thought before two gauntlet clad hands seized his arms, a soldier on either side. They drug him inside.
__________
He remembered the hallways, the rooms, everything. He wondered if they'd put him in one of the cells he'd been in before. But instead, they drug him to the interrogation room, and put him in manacles, bolted to the wall.
"Been awhile, Itachi..."
The bandit looked up from the stone floor, and smirked at the voice. This one was familiar.
"Captain Grantham. Charmed, I'm sure. Yeah, it's been awhile. Just wanted to come in and see your pretty face one more time. How have you been, anyway?"
Sudden, blinding pain. Stars. A little bit of nausea. One of the soldiers beside him had clubbed him in head. He felt something warm and sticky ran down his temple, and his sight was hazy.
"Well, at least I'll still be pretty when the days out. You'll be lucky to even be alive for the headsmans block. Knock him out, and put him in the special cell. Use the new lock."
Suddenly, he felt a sharp prick in his neck, and just before he fell unconscious he just managed to spit in Grantham's face.
The last thing he felt was a gauntleted fist to his jaw. Then all was black.
______________
When he woke up, he was in much more pain than he figured he should have been. He still couldn't see straight, and his extremities were numb. He'd been drugged. And, by the amount of red he was seeing, beaten while unconscious. He was lucky to be alive.
They hadn't chained him up, but it appeared as if they didn't need to...his left arm appeared dislocated at the shoulder. It wouldn't rotate at all, and he had a feeling he'd be screaming in pain when the drugs wore off the rest of the way.
He also felt as though something in his foot had been sprained - his boots and clothing had been removed, replaced with only a roughspun tunic amd pants, and theyd hobbled him at the ankle somehow. Getting out was gonna be a chore.
Gingerly, he crawled forward on one hand and both knees, and inspected the lock through blurry eyes. Through the haze, he realized that he wasn't getting out.
The lock had no keyhole. It would have to be broken. And he had no tools.
"....fuck!"