It has been at least... what? Almost a full month since Noelle arrived at Happy Trails Penitentiary? She has grown accustomed to her new state of living at this point. It took some time getting used to, but it has become quite cozy for her. She cannot deny that factor at all. Sure, she does miss the outside world, but there is nothing out there for her. Not anymore. Well, maybe besides the thought of beating Mark to a literal pulp for leaving her behind after countless times of helping him on his little "adventures". That's the only reason why she would ever attempt a breakout or parole, but it has no meaning to her if she'll just end up alone in the dark and twisted world out there. Even so, she doesn't feel at home here like everyone else does despite the amenities that this place has to offer. She doesn't know everyone's names or their faces due to always sticking to her lonesome. The only names and faces she has learned are Mr. Murder-Slaughter who sometimes checks in on her just to make sure that prison life is treating her right and that one weird cop with the long hair in a low ponytail. Never got his name.
Despite not being friends with basically anyone here, unless you count the cop since she's his favorite prisoner only because he admires her "work ethic", she has become a little famous for her "mysterious" character. Gaining the nickname "The Quiet Kid". How original. She almost always catches people staring at her. Their gazes were mainly full of curiosity and judgement, like they're trying to figure out who she actually is underneath that cold exterior she gives to just about everyone in the building. Except the warden since he's the boss around here. Despite that, no-one ever tries to engage in a conversation with her since it would be straight-up pointless. Not a single peep would be heard. If someone got lucky enough, maybe they would say... a few words.
She somewhat enjoys that nobody here wants to become friends with her. It makes her feel anxious when someone decides to stroll over to her and attempt making small talk with her. At least she has practiced and grown into a fake persona that has everyone distancing themselves away from her. Not like they're scared of her or anything.
...It's more of her being scared of them.
She was currently sitting at one of the tables in the cafeteria, both of her arms crossed on the table as she rested her chin on top. A diary and pencil laid right beside her. Noelle casted glances to others just to make sure nobody was staring at her. She caught a few people, and those few people quickly averted their attention. She hates it when they do that, but she has become used to it... for the most part anyway. She's lucky that she hasn't been jumped yet. Noelle has heard from the big man himself that once you step foot in here, you automatically become a part of the "family" they have going on.
Tch. Yeah, right. Been there, done that. Nothing but heartbreak to mess you up in the end. Noelle will always try her hardest to steer away from making the mistake of becoming close to someone else ever again.
Her eyes drifted to her diary that the warden gifted to her. He said that it isn't good for someone like her who is still so young and always alone to be stuck with her thoughts almost every day. She appreciated it, but she can't help feeling like the little gesture made a few people jealous. Noelle isn't buddy-buddy with Mr. Murder-Slaughter. She never wants to be. Since he sees this prison more of a rehabilitation for all of the residents, she isn't all that surprised he wants to make sure that the youngest person here is doing well. Which most often times, she is, unless she's just having a truly bad day. She does assume that he does check in on her fellow prisoners as well.
...And she's not always trapped with her thoughts. There are times where she will catch someone doing something interesting, such as backflipping off of a literal table, or eavesdrop on a conversation. Regrets were made. Some people have even caught her laughing or smiling which became sort of a big deal knowing her reputation.
Noelle straightened up her back and let out a sigh. Her hardened gaze softened some when she glanced around the cafeteria. She hates Mark, but she still can't help hoping that maybe he's trying to find her. Rescue her. And then apologize for what he did. Or maybe he got caught but she doesn't know since, knowing him, he might just be trying to disguise himself due to the fact she would also be in here with him. This is her "home" now and apparently her... "family". She needs to accept that, so why can't she? It feels like she's still in the first stage of grief after a literal month. Denial, right?
She shook her head at the sight of no Mark before looking down to her diary and flipping to an empty page. Noelle drew some random doodles that came to mind to try getting her mind off of Mark.
*The cafeteria is alight with activity, conversations, fights, the like. But none of it reaches Noelle's little corner of life here as she doodles mindlessly. Flowers, smileys, maybe the doodle of an animal here and there. People steer clear of her, not wanting to bother she who wishes not to be bothered.*
*Which is why it's so jarring when she hears indistinct mumbling just near her, close. Someone pacing, humming and scribbling behind her. A glance of annoyance cast its direction reveals a man, about her stature in a typical prison getup— striped pants, plain t-shirt, and what appears to be a tracker hitched to his arm... or some kind of boxy thing concealed by his t-shirt sleeve— marching to and fro stressfully, face buried in a notebook, scribbling down lyrics, humming to himself, muttering a soft "nah", and scratching things out and adjusting them... and rinse and repeat.*
*She's about to ignore the annoyance, just before the man lowers the notebook to press the end of his pencil to his mouth, looking up in thought.*
*That face is indistinguishable, she'd recognize him anywhere. Anywhere at all. Even down to the light facial hair! He isn't even TRYING to hide!*
"I got a trash pedigree, but down here I'm luxury -... nah, nope... bourgeoisie? ... yeah. That's the ticket."
*He mutters, writing it down frantically*
