The cell is the same in every detail, down to the metal toilet, chipped concrete floor, and flat mattresses on identical bunks. The only hints of a change in sceneryare the small personal items. A few photos, some commissary items, andscatteredclothes.
The sigh that leaves Phelix is nasally and exaggerated. “Let me guess, information on the new guy?”
Sinn'ous allows the silence to speak for him. His hands loosebut ready at his sides, height looming over Phelix. Should this need a more physical approach he is on the balls of his feet and jonesingfor a fight.
“I have nothing. In case it slipped past you, he’s been here all of five minutes. I know a name, and not even his legal one, and that’s about it. He calls himself Izz. Or that’s just what Reni decided to call him. It could swing either way.” Phelix crosses his arms over his chest, his golden curls jostling at the movement. “That’s the start and end of it. It’s all I’ve got.”
Sinn'ous’s features stay neutral and the silence stretches while he waits. Sometimes it takes silence to coax answers, it’s not always about inflicting pain to get what you want.
Phelix drops his arms, and licks his lips, his eyes skirting away. “Reni asked about getting some weed, he doesn’t smoke it so I’m guessing it’s for Izz? But that’s a wild guess, it could very well be for someone Reni lost a bet too.”
It isn’t as much as he wants to learn but it’s also better than nothing. And Phelix is not the only source of information around here. The next stop should prove to be more insightful.
~~~
His travels to K-Wing were the same as always, even the grunted gasps of that junkie, Erik, being railed from behind in a storage space his dealer didn’t bother closing the door too isn’t much of an eye opener. Walking in on men fucking is so frequent and common practice, Sinn'ous would be more cautious to enter an empty room.
The guards’ office door is an easy flick of the wrist and the blunt end of a razor blade to open, his lock picking skills snoring at the ease in which the door latch clicks. For a prison aiming to keep people in, they sure do fail at adequate interior locks. Or cameras. The guards’ office is one among many in the long list of rooms which aren’t covered under surveillance.
His knowledge of the guards’ schedule concludeshe will be opening the way to an empty room except for one individual. Guards tend to stick to traveling in pairs, when they aren’t understaffed, which is more miss than hit. This particular guard’s partner is one who sneaks down to The Hole for his breaks to visit an inmate locked down there. Giving Sinn'ous the opportunity to talk to CO Collin Rogers, alone.
The smell of stale coffee and depression lingers in the very air follicles. It goes with the decor of flaking paint, battered lockers, a stained coffee machine, and roach shit on the floor. The table and chairs not being bolted to the floor are about all there is to tell someone this is a part of the prison inmates should not be in.
Seated in a way which proves the last lesson did not stick, Rogers is scrolling on his phone, head propped in his hand and fast food spread out on the table’s surface. His back to the doorway and completely unaware of his surroundings.
Sinn'ous pulls out the chair on the table’s opposite side, so his own back is to the wall and he faces the door and a startled guard.
“Jesus fuck.” Rogers drops his phone on the table, missing the paper-box of steaming chips by an inch, and grabs at his chest, squeezing the uniform above his heart. “Why do you always do that?”
In the time since their first interaction Sinn'ous and Rogers ‘relationship’has grown into something deeper. Not on his side, but on the guard’s it has a fear-filled respect and loyalty. He knows he doesn’t need to threaten Rogers for the man’s lips to remain sealed should there ever be any cops sniffing around Sinn'ous’s heels.
He leans back in his chair, kicking his legs out under the table, presenting himself in a way that will placate and relax the other man.
Rogers scrubs a hand through his hair. “What can I help you with?” his voice is resigned in the way that says he assumes this is the usual evidence erasure. And pushes over the chips’ box, offering them wordlessly to Sinn'ous.
“I want everything you can find on the new inmate. His home life, his family, his job, hisrelationships, if he owns a cat. I want it all. By tomorrow.”
Rogers raises a brow and takes a bite of his burger. “Is that all?” he mumbles around his mouthful. “You know that can’t happen—”he raises his hand, “and before you get all pissyand murdery. It’s not me saying no. I’m just not some secret agent, it’ll take a while to get everything on the kid’s life . . .” his voice trails and he hesitates before continuing. “You aren’t going to kill him, are you? He seems like a decent kid—little naive if he’s keeping you as company, but a decent kid. And in this economy who wouldn’t benefit from a little theft.” He chuckleshumourlessly at the last quip, which dies once he looks towards Sinn'ous.
Theft? That’s more than he knew.
The boy doesn’t strike Sinn'ous as someone selfish—or brave—enough to steal for only himself. He’d avoid it if he could, so he must have done it for someone else. Blackmail? Or family?
His musings are interrupted by Rogers’s low voice.
“Why do you need to kill him? The kid’s clearly completely clueless. Why not keep him around—”
“It doesn’t concern you.” Sinn'ous’s face closes off and his lips thin.
Rogers sinks back into his chair at the same time my mood sours. He winces and displays his open palms in a placating gesture. “Yeah, sure thing. Whatever.” His eyes fix on a place on the table. “It’s just something to think about—or not. Your business.”
~~~
A tepidwarm shower is one of the small luxuries they are afforded. A well-timed ice bath is a choice when you need to snap-freeze your mind, and clear your head. And the trickle of a room temperature drizzle can be what you need to sort through the ever-flowing cascade of plans.
Clouds of steam and streams of voices are not on the list of pleasantries when it comes to scrubbing clean, neither are the naked bodies milling about. It’s a struggle not to push one down and redden the skin. And Sinn'ous carries a razor that could make quick work of a few dozen men. Then he can watch the blood swirling down the drains while his mind churns over all the angles of approaching his prey.
He’s on the fringes of stragglers just now entering, while men funnel from the communal showers on their way out. Somescrubbing towels over their hair or bodies, others stark naked, and then there are the more modest men wrapped in their scratchy towels as though everyone in here hasn’t seen countless dicks.
