Swamped

You decide to strike up a conversation.

"So, I got the impression you're not keen on seeing the inside of a cell."

He gives you a glare.

"You ought to know better than to ask a Marshguard about his past."

"Not where I was going. More of, I was wondering what would help to make you comfortable in one. We make it a point to treat our prisoners well here, and if we ever have to bring you in under less adaptable circumstances, well, it would be good to know what we can do for you."

"How about not locking the damn door," he sneers. "No, but seriously. That cell's cramped. You've got loads of rooms in this place, can't you just put locks on a few, give us a real place to say? The Marsh Fortress may not be the friendliest place, but I'll give it this - it ain't cramped."

"You're claustrophobic, is that it?"

"I need space to stretch my legs. Well, I mean, not literally, but I do enough standin' around at the lookout posts. I walk whenever I get a chance, y'see."

"Fair enough. I'll ask the Captain to look into it." That offer might have carried more weight before today, but then, even privates can make suggestions.

"Look into it. Yeah, I'm sure. Can't wait to get caught again." He sneers, and that seems to be the end of that line of conversation.

You can't help but be curious about something, though.

"So, I was wondering. It hardly matters now, since he's back, but we had a man captured the other day. Would you happen to know anything about just which of you Marshguards took him?"

"Why, so you can break their knees? Look, you lot get to leave the swamp once in a while, see your families. We don't. The fortress and the other Marshguards, they're all we have left in this life. So we don't pry into their business, and we don't sell them out."

Well, that line of questioning seems to have gone nowhere. He's not the friendliest fellow, but then, you did punch three of his comrades in the nose yesterday.

So what's left for you to do, since sleep still seems out of the question?