When guards came to apparently collect him, Oz didn’t know what the fuck was going on. Apparently Roman had taken off without a word and so Oz was no longer claimed and on a one-way ticket back to the cells. He put up a bit of a fight, mostly because he was fucking pissed. Someone he’d trusted, gone without so much as a goodbye. Claim collar ripped off and that good-old leather crap strapped back around his neck as he was shoved into a cell. “Hope the black eye fucking hurts fuck-face!” Oz growled to the guard he’d clocked right in the face when they’d come to collect him before the cell was slammed shut behind him. “Back into the fucking dog house.”
“ I have to say, that is quite a show. It looks like it hots like hell. I didn’t even see the punch and I know it is a ten out of ten.” They said giving him a round of applause, leaning over the cell door. “ Now what got you in a sour mood, new here? Didn’t read the fine print, someone pissed in your corn flakes?” They teased.
@ozzyxcloud













