[Q1] The Chains that Bind Us

It was the same routine as it was every night with Kershaw. Inventory, locking down the shop, dimmimg the lights, something small and cold for supper because by the time he got to eat all he wanted to do was sleep and sleep he had. He registered the difference in scent around him before he ever opened his eyes. The weight of the collar and the knowledge not to touch it as he took in the scene before him.  A very tired sigh left him then.  Stretching, bones popping as he did so. We are not meant to be dead. deadpanned in his answer to the man with the bleeding fingers.  Not a injury to expend the energy to heal.  Working on keeping the undercurrent of anger that he felt under lock and key.

A thing that shocked him somewhat. He had passed from one master to the next without any emotion to affect the current goal he held. Even, if at the time, that had not been freedom.  Ah, cages didn't suit him any longer unless it was one made of his own choosing.

Standing with soft groan. "I am a healer and tinker by trade. His voice hushed. Leaving out any mention that he was intimately aware of the art of killing. That for the moment was not a needed detail. For now he inspected the area around him trying to find any weak points and hidden corners. The one wondering the obvious and confused over death. Elf. What are your skills? The rest of you?

If they were stuck in a cage they might as well have a loose understanding of their strengths when the opportunity presented it to be free of the collar they wore or the threat that this place might hide. He did not need a knife in the gut. Again.

TLDR: Kershaw generally taking stock of his own aches answers Jorah's question and then asks what everyone's skills are.