The first thing Alita learned about prison was it wasnât anything like the movies. It was worse and better in some ways, ways that an outside could not begin to comprehend. The people around you became like family; family that you didnât speak to unless spoken to first, newbie, unless you want to get beaten up. Alita would meander through the mess hall, eyes glued to whatever disgusting pile of sludge decided to crawl on her plate today. Being a former nurse, those eyes had been exposed to a plethora of horrible sights, but none so rancid and rank as the food before her to cause a wad of bile to collect in the back of her throat.
With a sigh, the fallen angel fell to her bum, picking what she thought was an empty table and preparing herself to not dig into this shit. With a fork in her less-than-firm grip, Alita lets slip a sigh as her eyes begin to wander from this unholy concoction before her. And she freezes. There across the dirty tabletop hunched a great big shark hulk of a man with hair as wild as the waves in an ocean.Â
Alita slumped a bit and set her grumpy gaze back to âdinnerâ. Guess we have a guest tonight.
Long hair tied back in a high ponytail, trying to get over the ban on hair gel, the shark ex detective sat at his table and picked at his food. He wasn't entirely sure what was in it, but it was edible.
Probably.
He was new here, even more new than the former nurse who had soon joined his table, but he felt he knew the system, he should know what happens to people he has helped lock up. Unfortunately, not only was he sorely mistaken, but had quite a few enemies he had helped put in their place. He didn't have a high status here. 3rd Division of Criminal Affairs didn't mean a goddamn thing in a prison.
He glanced up at the brunette before him, attempting to assess if it was someone he recognized. Once confirming he didn't know her, he looked back down at his.... did his dinner just move....?