It's not all bad

The wolf called him 'Sir' again, thoroughly rustling Artisan's feathers at the implication. "My name is Artisan, you don't have to get fancy around me." He insisted, getting to his feet and stretching out his limbs as much as he could within the cell. It was odd that a wolf belonging to the pack would get so formal before an incarcerated wolf and it drew Artisan's curiosity. "Are you a slave here? What's the trick to getting out of the cell?" Hell, even if Artisan had to wander the hallowed halls calling people 'sir' and 'ma'am' and delivering breakfasts, he might consider doing it if it got him out of this prison block.

She was polite enough and looked slightly worried, which was enough to have Artisan reach his paw for the bowl and drag it beneath the bars toward him. It wasn't enough to make him actually eat it yet, however. "Or, or..." He emphasized. "You can go get the beer, and I'll try a bite while you're gone."

"Speech"