fletcher charleston / edward blake (funnypapers) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2010-06-05 21:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | fletcher charleston |
Who: Fletcher Charleston
What: Contemplating. Arguing. Scheming.
When: Saturday evening.
Where: His prison cell.
Warnings: Language.
In the last two months, he'd learned a number of interesting things: nothing made prison food delicious, there were thirty blocks of cement that made up his ceiling, wherever he was they weren't keen on reading material, and if someone didn't fix the dripping sink in the next cell over he was going to go insane. That was all the basics of prison life, though. Anyone caught boosting a car or tagging a church would be able to tell you just as much. Fletcher, however, had an entirely different set of circumstances to deal with while he was locked up. On top of everything else, he'd learned that when the only company you keep for most of the day is yourself, whoever you have floating around in your head gets really chatty.
Don't know why the fuck we're still sitting around here. You could at least get off your ass and try something.
Fletcher sighed, but didn't flick his eyes away from the pages of his book. "No." The guards had to be used to people talking to themselves by now. He knew he wasn't the only reincarnate in there. He'd seen the others, even if the guards were careful to keep them from communicating. Or they thought they were, anyway. People were rarely as clever as they thought they were.
How long have we been in here? Clock a guard. Show them who they're dealing with.
He turned the page. Anyone watching wouldn't be able to tell that there was a man nearly twice his age in his head giving him a lecture about the proper way they were supposed to act. "Why would I do that? I've got nothing to prove, and my days are long enough without having to worry about being maced." Eddie grumbled some more, but gave up on arguing. It wasn't like they didn't have this conversation at least twice a day anyway, and Fletcher's point of view never swerved. He was patient, biding his time until the right opportunity came along. Which wasn't going to happen if he went around assaulting guards.
Speaking of guards. There was a sharp rap on his door, signaling him to get against the back wall and not try any funny business. He swung off the bed and did just that. He might not have been a trouble maker, but the people charged with keeping an eye on him knew why he was there. They were cautious. The guard came stomping in, hands on his hips. "Miss Davenport is here t' see you again." Look at that, he thinks he's the biggest swingin' dick in here. Now that was interesting. Not Eddie's comments, but that the woman was back. Again. The ADA had been in a few times already to speak to him, but he wasn't sure why she kept coming back. He didn't mind. At least it would get him out of the cell for an hour or so.
Rather spend time talking to some pretty pair of tits than trying to get us out of here. Now that's hilarious. Like you're ever gon---
He banished Eddie to the farthest recesses of his mind. If he was going to talk with Miss Davenport again, he didn't want to have to do it over Eddie's crude growling.