theauthorlives || Yancy.
It’s early in the afternoon, but Yancy is alone in the wing. Apparently, a prisoner can get in trouble for something he didn’t do. Wild, huh? Rather than spending the isolated rec time fuming, he decides to try and focus on some work for his reading class. He’s doing well, until a clear voice rings in his head and breaks his concentration. He’s never heard it before, and he knows it isn’t his internal thoughts.
“What th-” His head shoots up in alarm, listening to the end of the message. Oh no, is he going crazy? He heard about this before. He isn’t ready for that! The idea is taken to climb onto his feet to try and shake it off.
A figure standing at the bars makes him jump again.
“Hey! What is youse lookin’ at? Ain’t got nothin’ better to do than gawk?” It seems like Yancy hasn’t put two and two together.
A small chuckle slips out, barely audible as he relaxes his stance, pulling one hand away from the bars.
-Is it really gawking if I’m actually speaking to you? Or have you not realized it yet?-
Not that he blames Yancy. Most people don’t seem to recognize his preferred method of communication right off the bat, which isn’t their fault, it’s probably his, if he cared enough to take any sort of blame.
-You’re called Yancy, are you not? I’m curious about you. I’d like to learn more, honestly. It’s not often a new ego slips past my notice.-












