Post lockdown, inside, C-Block (Seedy Ave), upper tier (end cell)
Grey had literally no idea why Mitchell was suddenly freaking out. "What the fuck are you gibbering on about?" she asked, still not moving, she really didn't need him taking everything she said out of context. "It's got nothing to do with that. I don't like it, it's a personal fucking preference. Sorry." Jesus, why did men think it was okay to call women 'sweetheart'? It was fucking patronising, that was the problem. "But no you're right. I'm having a fucking whale of a time here, cos y'know Malc's so fucking stable, out there on his own. Ex-fucking-cuse me!"
"Well sorry my concerns aren't quite what you think I should be worrying about." She shook her head. what was the point? She needed to find some tiny fucking glimmer of hope before she went insane, she should've known better than to think Mitchell would humour her and she really didn't have the mental strength for a fucking argument with him. Then she started to piece it together - the unconscious man. Fuck. She wasn't sure what she was meant to do now really, what to say. She had no desire to get any closer though, not because she thought he'd attack her, but she really couldn't deal with anger like that directed at her. "I'm sorry, Mitchell, okay? I'm sorry this fucking cunt locked you up with someone."