We're getting out," Genma corrected, locking his eyes on Kakashi's for a moment, then looking pointedly at Kakashi's hands wrapped around Kumoto's strained thumbs. Payback? Did he want payback? What kind of payback could possibly make up for what he'd lost? There was only a little satisfaction in seeing Kumoto looking frightened and pained, with his piggish little eyes dancing from Kakashi to Genma and back. Genma's lip curled in a disgusted smile and Kumoto swiveled his head towards Sugimoto in a desperate appeal.

"Much as I would like to allow you your liberty in this matter, Shiranui-san," she said placidly. "And trust me, I would — I am here to escort you into the hands of Konoha's medics under the terms of the treaty with Iwagakure."

"Under the terms of the treaty?" Genma echoed tightly. "Under the terms of the damned treaty we should both be going home right this damn second; they pissed all over the treaty when they tor—"

"Shiranui-san!" Sugimoto barked. "It is not particularly easy to earn an invitation to the Hokage's table. You should show more gratitude."

Genma's throat choked closed. It wasn't the rescue Kakashi had promised. It was half-a-rescue that might go wrong at any minute. That key word, gratitude, was another coded message, simple and direct: we are far from out of the woods here.

His eyes darted towards the medic's assistant: she looked like easy prey. Kakashi had Kumoto pinned in a grip that made Genma's own hands ache just to see it. Sugimoto was clearly a jounin of exceptional skill. They needed to get out of here. They could get out of here. Now.

Kumoto groaned, his shoulders trembling.

Genma pushed up into a crouch and felt the world lurch around him; the light in the cell seemed to dim.

"Hatake-san," Sugimoto said in that same, too-calm tone as before, "Please release the medic. Shiranui-san, you are not well. I am here to escort you to Konoha's medics. Hatake-san will be able to dine with you and Sandaime-sama at a later date."