Qrow had no agency in trying to escape. He knew team RWBY had escaped, so he didn't need to worry about them. All he wanted to do now was mourn the death of his... Could they have been considered friends? They'd grown somewhat close, at least, and he'd referred to him as a friend; but that was only as a way to try to get him to back down. He'd used several manipulative tactics then. It didn't matter if they were friends or not. You don't need to be friends with someone for their death to affect you immensely.

He was allowed to be upset about it. He could stand to sulk for a little while. He'd known Ironwood for a long time, and he seemed to be putting off dealing with him. Seems old Jimmy had grown attached. He'd probably deny it. Maybe he just had bigger things to worry about. Like trying to capture everyone else. Who knows? If team RWBY could beat the Ops once they could do it again. He wasn't too worried about them. Plus they'd joined up with the rest of the group, and Penny, apparently; from what he'd overheard. He wasn't worried about them. They'd do fine.

For now he would let himself mope. He'd been constantly running around, stressing about time for the past several years. Not only did he need time to mourn, but now seemed the best time to wait. Strategically speaking, now was a good time to wait for the right time to do what he needed to. It didn't hurt that it was really convenient for him.

The first few days he mainly just moped around his cell. Well, not so much 'around', as sitting in one place, starring at the same place on the floor. He soon, however, found his imprisonment gave him a lot more to wonder about than he'd expected. Most days Marrow would bring breakfast in well after he woke up, but one of the days —a few days into his capture— his first meal of the day was delivered before he'd even woken up. Long before he'd woken up. The food was cold. Not that it was usually hot and steamy, but it was clear that it had been sitting out for an hour or so. He'd wondered why that was. Maybe it was just that different days required doing jobs at different times than others. That seemed wrong somehow. The ace-ops wouldn't be out doing things as trivial as holding off grimm. The stuff they do are scheduled. Which made it so weird that his meals either came on time, or way too early.

At first he'd thought some days the just started earlier, but the days were inconsistent, and it also didn't make any sense to do that. They never did that when he was on their side either. Why would they start now. It was still a theory, but he doubted it was correct. Speaking of his time back on their side, if he had to choose one of the Ops that he'd say was the most carefree, possibly excluding Clover... it would be Marrow, and he had the fortune of Marrow being the person to bring his meals down. He wondered why he was the only one to do so. He was glad though. He figured Marrow would be a good way to get some answers. Especially with such minuscule questions. He wasn't asking about what Ironwood plans to do now. He already knew that anyways.

"Hey, how come sometimes I wake up and my foods already cold," he finally asked one day.

"Who cares?" He turned to leave again. Ok, Qrow hadn't been expecting that. Not from Marrow, at least.

"'Ey!" Marrow stopped in his tracks. "I care. I'm the one who got cold food this morning!"

"Some days we train earlier than other days."

"Seriously? That's it? I've been wondering about this for-" He thought for a second. "How long have I been here anyway?"

"Eleven days. Now if you'll excuse me, you're not the only one who needs a meal right now." He left. That didn't go nearly as well as he was hoping for. Or expecting.

"So how's your team been doin' with everything going on," he asked one day, out of boredom.

"Fine I guess," he answered. "Why do you care?"

"Well, your leader just died- for one." Qrow narrowed his eyes. "I'd have thought you wouldn't be fine."

"We have to be professional."

"If having emotions is unprofessional, then James' paranoia is leaving him very unprofessional."

"I don't think paranoia is technically an emotion."

"Whatever. But you wouldn't think I'd be more upset over Clover's death than his own team. At least I didn't." He was starting to get angry. Clover's team didn't care that he'd died? Clover seemed prepared to kill him if necessary in their last interaction and he still cared; even though they'd only known each other for a couple of weeks, tops.

"You miss Clover?"

"We got to know each other pretty well in the short amount of time we had. I honestly find it hard to believe anyone could not miss him. He's a pretty easy guy to get along with."

"I want to miss him, I just-" He paused, looking down. "I don't have time to think about it too much." He looked back up to Qrow. "I have a job to do."

"You can afford to bring me food everyday, but can't afford to think about the death of someone you used to spend every day with?"

"I mean... mourning specifically consumes your mind pretty... just, a lot, and with the grimm it's best to avoid that. Especially with my job. It's best to avoid any issues like that."

"So you're just gonna avoid thinking about it? What, forever?" There was a pause.

"I don't know. I'll just have to wait and see I guess."

"So, what's taking Jimmy so long to deal with me? Is he trying to get the rest of the group first, or is he too busy looking for someone to replace Clover's position on your team?" He said it with as much passive aggression as he could inflict. He found the idea that someone would go to replace a person—especially if it's because they'd died—sickening. He wanted to make that clear. Given the situation they were in, maybe it would have been smart to make the team whole again, but Qrow still wanted to spit in Iroonwood's face for it.

"We aren't looking for a new ace op."

"Seriously? You'd think that would be a pretty high priority. A lot's goin' on. Wouldn't you need a full team?"

"The team had always been four until recently. Have you ever heard of any other team with five members?"

"Ok. So why did you ever have five members then?"

"Everyone kind of hates Ironwood right now, so he started doing a bunch of little things to try to appeal to as many demographics as he could."

"What demographic does a fifth Ace-Op appeal to?"

"Progressives," he answered, shifting his tail to be in Qrow's line of vision.

"Wait. So the only reason you're an Op is because Ironwood wanted a faunus on his team to appeal to progressives?"

"Pretty much."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"You think it doesn't?"

"Hey. I'm bored," he said. "Do you have anything I could do while I'm just stuck in here?"

"Do you have to do this right now?"

"I was gonna ask this morning, but I woke up to cold food again."

"Well I hope you know that whenever you keep me here you take away from my lunch time."

"Yeah? What's 60 seconds of going without food gonna do to you?"

"It's more of my eating time than you'd think. Mostly because where I eat is pretty far from here."

"Well could you ask Ironwood if I could get something to do while I'm down here?"

"I'm not gonna do that." Qrow couldn't tell you one way or another whether he did ask Ironwood, but the next tray that Marrow brought down had a rubber ball hidden under the cup, which was upside down. He didn't get any water that night, but he didn't need a whole lot of it, given that he was just sitting in one place all day.

"I assume this is from you," Qrow said, presenting the rubber ball between his thumb and middle finger.

"I am the only one who comes down here."

"I honestly didn't expect my badgering to get me anything. I'm not usually that lucky. Especially since you're supposed to hate me."

"I'm not ' supposed to hate you. ' You…" he glanced down. "You're all nice to me. I'm not supposed to hate you, but I do need to hate you," he attempted to correct. "Wait-no. Scratch that. That doesn't make sense." He thought about it for a second. "I hate you professionally, but personally you seem ok. The general seems pretty convinced that you… that you killed Clover. But the jury's still out as far as I'm convinced. Apparently you guys got close, or whatever- and that's only according to you, so it might not be the best source, but seeing as you were traveling with a well known serial killer who has, now, escaped I think you have a case. Plus Robyn was unconscious while… whatever happened… happened… but she's pretty convinced you didn't do it."

"Huh. 'Hate me professionally, but not personally.' You can seperate those?"

"It's pretty easy. You seem like good people, but everyone thinks they're doing the right thing. Well, most people, anyway."

"What if you're the one doing the wrong thing?"

"I'm still thinking about it."

"I got cold food again this morning," he said, repeatedly bouncing the ball of the walls to catch it.

"Yeah, you know there's really nothing I can do about that, right? Out of the two of us, I'm probably put at more of an inconvenience at waking up as early as I do."

"Ok, then tell Ironwood that I've been complaining about it."

"Yeah I don't think he's going to override a bunch of stuff just to make you comfortable. Maybe you used to be friends, but I seriously doubt he considers you one anymore."

"Yeah, but you—apparently—don't want to wake up early. This way you have an excuse to try to get him to get him to stop by starting with the fact that I've been complaining. Say I've been buggin' you about it." Marrow sighed.

"I'm not gonna do that. Besides, Ironwoods not-" He stopped himself mid-sentence, and his facial expression quickly transformed into an almost fearful one.

"Uh... Hello? -Oh my god!" He scrambled up and got as close to him as the cell would allow, as vomit shot out of Morrow's mouth. "Are you ok?" Marrow just stood there, bent slightly over, covering his mouth and trying to catch his breath.

"Shit..." He ran back up the stairs and out the door before soon coming back with a mop, bucket, and disposable bag. He immediately started scooping up the vomit with the bag.

"Don't you have people working under you? Can't you get them to do that? If you're sick you should really be in bed, or something." Marrow tied the bag after getting all he could into, and grabbed the mop.

"I'm not sick."

"That bag says otherwise." He gestured at it with his head. "You should talk to Ironwood—or Harriet— or whoever it is you go to, and ask to take a day off." Marrow was done with the mop by the time he finished talking. He didn't respond. He just rolled his eyes and walked away.

Dinner the same day. Marrow seemed tired and off balance.

"Did you-"

"No." He was fast to start leaving, clearly hoping to get out of having to talk about it.

"Marrow. Seriously." He stopped, right before the stairs. "You can't just power through like that. Maybe you could say that as a huntsman, with a strong aura, you can get through a sickness, but that doesn't extend to also doing huntsman duties. You shouldn't be overexerting yourself. That goes for anyone." Marrow didn't stay to say anything back.

Breakfast the next day was, thankfully, not an early breakfast day, and Marrow. After pushing the food through the one slit in the bars that was horizontal and putting the barrier back up between said bars, Marrow just stood there.

"You want something," Qrow asked. Marrow took a deep breath.

"Look, I'm gonna get so much shit if the other's find out, but I wanted to apologize for yesterday."

"What? For being irritable?" He made sure to say it lightly to indicate he was joking.

"No, I wanted to apologize for throwing up in front of you. That was unprofessional." Qrow felt his face contort in anger as he stood up.

"Are you serious?" Marrow seemed to sink into himself, if only just a little. Qrow made a conscious attempt to relax his face and body language. "Marrow, people get sick. It's not any fault of their own."

"I wasn't sick."

"Then what was that?"

"I wasn't sick! I just hadn't eaten breakfast!" There was a pause.

"You were doing heavy duty huntsman work on an empty stomach?"

"Coming down here takes a lot out of my eating time, and on days when we wake up at three AM I'm tired and slow. I don't have time. It's fine though."

"Were you able to get lunch yesterday, with cleaning that up and everything?"

"Oh, no. I missed that too. But-"

"Oh my god!"

"...Wh-"

"Go eat something," he yelled, pointing at the staircase. If there was a way to point aggressively, he did. Marrow jumped at that, and ran up the stairs.

"Stupid... stubborn kid."

That day at lunch, Qrow made sure not to say anything, and gathered up his questions for when He came down to deliver dinner.

"You guys still quit training for the day after dinner, right?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Because I don't have to worry about keeping you from anything."

"Aww, you worry about me?" It was a joke, but Qrow wasn't amused, and—seeing this—Marrow seemed to grow embarrassed for having made it; and cleared his throat, uncomfortably. "I-I mean, I don't want to imply, one way or another, what you thi-"

"Marrow. If you're not getting enough food, you should talk to Ironwood about it."

"Sorry." He formed an X with his arms. "No can do." He was joking, and trying to make it seem like a non-issue, but his drooping tail was quite a tell.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"Meals are categorized as personal responsibility," he said, matter of factly. "Requesting to put a personal responsibility over a mandatory one is out of the question."

"Then on early mornings, you can eat my breakfast. I don't even care. I don't need the energy for anything."

"I can't do that! That would be putting my personal life ahead of my job."

"So, fucking, what?" He was back to yelling.

"I can't afford to lose my job! I'm only here because I'm a faunus, so I'm on thin ice, and if I fail that sets all faunus back!" Qrow stared at him in shock and even Marrow seemed taken aback by his own outburst, before turning and running back up the stairs. Well damn. The kid had sound motivations.

He tried not to distract Marrow after that, to save him time.

The next time Qrow woke up to find his food had already been delivered was a few days later, and Qrow found himself relieved that there was only half the food on his tray than usual. He just wished he'd woken to an empty tray. He'd had jobs that required the same levels of physical exertion, and they were no walk in the park. The more energy the better.

One day he woke up to a full tray. This... concerned him, to say the least. His concern only increased when his lunch got delivered later that day by Elm. He knew by now what Marrow's footsteps sounded like, and when they sounded stronger he made sure to hide the ball he'd been using as a minor form of entertainment. He still didn't know if he was technically supposed to have it. She did not seem pleased with the arrangement. His concerns were soon put to rest midway through her rant about being 'reduced to this.'

"What did you say to him," she asked angrily. "It had to be you. Marrow's only priority has always been to follow the general's orders."

"He left?"

"Don't act like you don't know!" Qrow chuckled.

"Well. Good for him."

"You mean good for you. You and the rest of your group are the only ones who benefit from this."

"Yeah? If he'd stuck around, who would that benefit? Just you and your group. Right?"

"What we're doing. Benefits everyone. We're trying to save the world!"

"So are we. It's just that me and you have different ideas about what that means. So what? Did Marrow leave a note or anything?"

"He didn't leave anything! He just left!"

"Are you serious? Why are you yelling at me? For all you know he was captured by someone." Elm stopped and seemed to think about it for a second.

"Well there's only one group of people I could think of with the skill and motivation to pull that off," she said accusatorily.

"Well, I wouldn't have the access to have anything to do with it if they did. So how about you go 'do your duty,' or whatever, and get off my back." After a few moments she went off in a huff.

The next time she came down she seemed much more single minded, with the sole intent of delivering the food and leaving. Attempting to leave. Before she was interrupted.

"What? You don't have any extra comebacks for me?"

"I don't have time to talk to you."

"Wow. Really ? Did you have time to eat ?" She didn't seem to pick up on his sarcasm.

"Mostly, but Harriet extended my eating time for the time I missed."

"Course she did." Elm seemed confused by this response, before heading up the stairs.

He had decided the best time to escape would be sometime after the previous week, but after Marrow revealed his motivations, his concern held him back. Now that staying wouldn't help any — whether Marrow was in a better situation or a worse one — now would be a good time to leave.

When Elm let down the barrier between the bars down, Qrow shifted into his bird form and shot through the gap, leaving a very confused Elm.