Cal was too professional to let the glibness rile him, though on this subject? It came close to touching a nerve. Thankfully, he already had some idea of Leandro's approach to people. It'd have to be enough to maintain his even keel. "Nah, man. Around Atlanta USP, there's plenty of black guards and inmates alike. I was doin' volunteer work there, physical therapy stuff with inmates, double-checking their infirmary procedure," Cal offered almost-entirely honestly.
"And I know weight gets moved in prison," he went on, going about disposing of the syringe and his gloves. "Shit, I treated a regular crew of cons for inflamed injection sites or withdrawal, but I wasn't ever the one bringin' their product in. Just... one day I was checkin' out, guards searched my bag, and 'hey Mr. Royce are these your balloons of Horse and your five grand in filthy cash?'"