Wakefield: The End is Near discussion

((For members of Cell 363: Vance "Red Hands" Vanderpool, Christian "Chrissy" Zander Lewis, 3, 4, and Guard))

Vance was lying on his back, on the floor under the bottom bunk on the right side of the cell. He stared up at the frame above him, idly twirling a set of keys on his finger. It hadn't been hard for him to seal the set. Unfortunately, the keys belonged to a few cells in the 400 block. And the locks here are pick-proof, he thought bitterly. The keys made a nice prize, however. The staff would no doubt be missing them and would most likely up the security measures in the 400 block, not wanting to take the chance that one of the prisoners there had stolen the keys. The Warden would also feel inclined to punish his staff. Vance smirked. It was a fair trade even if the keys were the wrong set.

Vance looked up as the cell door was opened. He instantly stilled the keys. Anyone looking into the room would swear that the room was empty. Vance waited.

Christian sighed as he was shoved into the cell, "I was perfectly capable of walking that extra few steps," he muttered to himself, tugging on his shirt to straighten it out. He glanced around expectantly, he had a feeling the cell would have been bare that's not what disappointed him, the warden had just told him, not too long ago in fact, that he had a cell mate, but from what he could see, he was alone.
"Perhaps he's out," Christian told himself, reasoning with himself almost, he hated to be disappointed, so he usually came up with an excuse before it could settle.

Vance slowed his breathing so that it was barely audible to even himself. He listened. What is the Warden thinking? Giving me a cellmate! Vance almost laughed. Almost. What are you going to do? he thought, peering at the newcomer through a crack in the bunk.

Sighing softly, Christian raked a hand through his ridiculously bright red hair with the incredibly bright streaks of blonde through it. He gazed around in a bored manner, he wasn't quite sure what he should do now.
He glanced up at the bunks, a typical bunk bed, it reminded him of a typical jail soap opera. It was nuts.
He moved quickly to clamber up the step ladder to sit on the top bunk, his long gangly legs dangling over the edge, itching his chin he looked at the bleak room. Life starts again.

Vance felt his muscles relax as soon as Christian occupied the top bunk. The bunks didn't have much give to them, being made of a single sturdy mattress - definitely not Tempurpedic - and most likely would've caused Vance some discomfort is Christian had sat right on top of him. Some discomfort, maybe I wouldn't be able to breathe. . . He could've even found me out, he thought. Then he frowned. So I'll stay hidden under here until who knows when? The frown only deepened at this thought. Then another, more amusing, thought struck him. Let's have some fun. Slowly at first, Vance began to spin the keys around his finger again. They jingled as the metal click together. It was soft at first then steadily grew louder as he twirled them faster.

Christian had zoned out slightly, his mind wandering to the possibilities of what he could do here, the place didn't actually seem so bad, the Warden didn't seem terrifying, but then again that might be because he made a good impression, who knows?

Chrissy was suddenly dragged back to the present moment when he hear the soft jingle of keys? He straightened his spine, his demeanour changing radically, he was no longer this lanky boy, but this tense poised man, his eyes darting around the cell.
"I'm giving you to the count of ten, to get your ass out from beneath the bottom bunk," Christian warned, he was only guessing of course, by since the cells were so bare and bleak surely that would be the only place someone could be hiding.

Vance gave only the slightest flinch, his prison issue sleeve brushing against the wall for half a heart beat with the motion and producing an almost too soft to hear sound. He could only hope that the sound of the keys jangling was enough to cover it up. The newcomer couldn't possibly be sure that he was hiding under there. But really, where else could I hide? he thought. Cautiously, he considered how he would respond. Surely the prisoner could just as easily lift from the bunk and come down to check - and would surely see Vance with his pale coloration. Could I throw my voice? he wondered. Just as soon as he had the thought, Vance tossed it aside. No, that wouldn't do. But then, it's not much fun if the game is already over, resigned to that thought, Vance stilled the keys again. "And who goes there?" he demanded loudly, intentionally so with the hopes that the sound would bounce around the cell too much for the newcomer to make out its source.