The hoarse wails of anguish and pain from the torture room nearby and the slop they delivered to his cell were the only things he could use to measure the passing time in the darkness. When the cries of agony stopped, it meant that the torturer was going to bed, or at least Tyrion assumed so. He wondered if it would be his turn next. After all, the slop itself was not only tasteless but more water than anything else and could probably barely pass for food, even in Fleabottom. Eating it made somehow made him hungrier.