You jump down and pass the corner with the chamber pot and grab the edge, taking care to keep at least half of the liquid in the bucket and approach the door, kicking a rat who decided to stay instead of vacating with its brothers and sisters. There is no grate or slot for you to peek through so you can only assume a guard is somewhere near the door. You lean as far as you dare into the door without receiving splinters and listen hard.
Minutes pass and you curse each cry of the birds as they could be masking sounds from beyond the door. But after a few more minutes you come to the conclusion that there is either no one just beyond the door or it's too damned thick and you won't ever be able to tell. With a glance back to the pale blue sky past the window bars, you breath in deep and raise a rough fist and bang on the rougher door. As thick as the door is, it still rattled heavily on its hinges. "HEY," you yell, standing back just in case the guard is just beyond the door. The bucket sloshes lightly in your hands.
A clatter of what sounds like military-grade boots (and how would you know that?) comes to a rest just beyond the door. "What do you want, prisoner? We've already got our hands full wit' the others." He sounds short, squat and mean. You smile. This was sure to get him in here.
"Hey," you cry again, your voice echoing off the stone. "I-