None of this was helping, so Mickey slumped back against the wall of the cell again with a dull thud. There was no way he was going to make sense of this. Any of this. So he may as well stop trying. But Mickey's life had always made sense. He knew how the world worked for him. He'd known it his whole fucking life. But this shit was something else. He didn't know what it was, he didn't understand it, and he sure as hell did not like it. But there was nothing he could do about right now, which only added to his frustration, which was currently evident in the scowl that had settled on his face. At least prison was something he was familiar with, though.
"Motherfucker," he muttered under his breath. "So, where you from?" His scowl was still firmly in place. May as well get the meet and greet out of the way. Then they could get to escape plans or something.