Barack and Jaral returned to the cave, with the captive draped around Barack's shoulders. "Where do you want him, my lady?"<br/>Huddled close to the campfire, the female anthro pointed to the wall opposite her. "Prop him there and tie only his wrists together. He is too wounded to escape, which works well in our favor." Nodding, Barack dropped Michael, none too gently, onto the cavern floor. He cut the rope binding his wrists and ankles together, then applied a fresh sliver of rope around the man's wrists in front of him. Then, propping him up against the wall, Barack turns to her again.<br/>"Done. Now what?"<br/>Looking up at him, she raises a brow, "Did you give him any water?" With a slow shake of the head, she took that as answer. "Give him some. He will need to wet his throat. I'm sure it is dry and we can't have that if we are to gain any answers from him." With another nod, Barack left the cave and returned moments later holding a flask. He knelt next to the man, tilted his head back and slowly poured the cool liquid of water down his throat. The woman watched the entire time, studying him quietly.