"What is," Teren snaps back, but is distracted by Bastien's maneuver, her eyes narrowing as they shift from him to the guard. She's sore, bruised, in more pain than she lets on, but she takes this opportunity to creep over to the door of the cell and reach through, light fingers straining for the guard's belt. She can't even see it that well, is hoping to feel for keys or a pin or anything that can be used, only to be interrupted by the door from the hallway swinging open.

Viator steps through, catches sight of her before Teren snakes her hand back in-- "a volunteer?" he cheerfully remarks, the sound of his voice enough to rouse the guard, who stands to attention.
Teren slinks backward, bristling like a feral cat, preparing to fight as they approach the cell.