Oh, Will. Fisher knew immediately who this guy was now. He was the one believed in God, but didn't. He didn't get basic jokes. The conversation made a lot more sense now.
"Almost two months." It felt like a lifetime though. He really did look like a nut, scrub pants and baggy tee shirt, skin pale and hair perpetually a disaster. There was no point in looking nice, nobody gave a damn. Looking pretty didn't make shit stop. "You came in a week or so after me." It wasn't a question. Fisher remembered when Will had come in. The guy was huge. They had two people on him like he was frickin John Coffey.
"Why do you wear that stuff on your face?" Will had been sulky and subdued when he'd gotten here, and now he seemed downright pleasant. Quite a 360.