Prisoner. It's interesting, other people's choice of words--prisoner instead of just stuck. With a light shiver, he wonders how long this other person's been here. They look almost the same age--almost, but not quite--and he already seems to have everything together. It's more than a little daunting.

He tries his best to ignore the word prisoner and instead focuses on the other's words. He apologizes, for example, and Credence is so thrown off that anyone is even remotely considering saying sorry to him, let alone actually doing it, his brows furrow and he looks up and at Jess, just to make sure he hasn't misheard.

"I thought--" There it is, that sudden nervousness. He licks his lips despite the harsh winter cold, sure to have them chapped, and his head ducks down again. The snow is a lot more interesting now, it seems. "Since it was the village it was okay, I didn't mean to cause trouble." It's genuine, and something else crosses his mind--he asks carefully, cautiously, and curls his fists as he does so.

"Does anyone know what it is?" Credence's knee-jerk reaction is that, somehow, it's him again.