"Oi! Watch where you're throwin' people!" He yelled.
The guard just returned a half hearted, "Whatever." There were a very few amount of holding cells in the Magnolia Police Station. This one being 424. The one across from it was 212. Ones farther down the hall were labelled 636 and 848. The cells were catty corner from each other. Which made sure its "prisoners" didn't agitate each other.
"None of your bails have been paid, so anyone in here will be spending the night or part of the night here. There are cots and blankets for you to sleep if you so wish," an officer said from the door. Through the frame, you could see the stark contrast between the concrete cells stained with the rusty cell bars or pipes, and the white tiled floors of the police station and its pristine white painted walls. It was almost two different worlds. At least, that's what 424's female attendant thought.
The room was silent for a long time. She looked at her male counterpart, wondering why on earth she had to be paired with a male in her state. He had wild, long black hair, facial piercings and a navy blue t-shirt with some blood on it and khakis. He sat down on his open cot. He cracked his knuckles and winced the tiniest bit. Then, he rubbed his face. That's when she saw his bloodied knuckles. I'd like to hear the story behind those, the curious 424 thought. She continued to scrutinize him in her mind. It must have been a bar fight. He looks kind of drunk, doesn't he? Maybe he got a little too into the metal music in the background. I can't see him going to a sports bar, even if he is wearing nice-ish shoes and pants. I wonder what it was over- maybe some fight about someone looking at him the wrong way. He looked up, so she looked away.
The room was pretty damn quiet. It was bloody deafening. Was she just looking at me? No wonder she'd stare. Isn't used to this life. He could tell she had hazel eyes, in the split second he saw her staring at him. Her blue hair was nearly perfect, except for the wear and tear that came from being arrested. What wasn't usual was her dress was ripped halfway down the front. She was trying to hide it with her arms crossed, but the prude would have to eventually realize she's gonna let go at some point. The rip wouldn't even show either of her mosquito bites on her chest. He'd know her type and would be angry with her even if he wasn't drunk. She's probably just here because she whined too much at the police that they needed to give her special protection from whoever ripped her dress. Is that a stain on it? Probably the fanciest of wines, it's surprising her cleaners couldn't get that out. Though I do wonder the story behind the ripped dress.
She glanced back at him and they both looked away after making brief eye contact. Then they looked back again. They dared speak to each other.
"What happened there?" he nodded to her dress. So much like a criminal to ask like that. Does he have any tact?
"What about you and your bloody knuckles?" she asked. Is her nose actually in the air? I don't think that's ever happened before.
"You first." He knows he did something wrong. No wonder he's in here. Probably not his first time here. Just what I thought.
"I don't think so." So judgy. What the hell?
"What were you taken in for?" he asked. Is that supposed to be better? Well, it's all he's getting without something in return.
"Public Indecency. You?" Public Indecency my ass. Prude wouldn't show herself for anything.
"Assault." No surprise here. Called it.
"Why?" She must think she knows everything. Time to prove this bitch wrong.
"I went out to dinner with my girl-" 'My girl.' Like owns her. Disgusting.
He continued, "and she dumped me. Hard. I drank a little because why not? I had been paying for her meals for a while. She might as well pay for mine in embarrassment. Plus I had just gotten dumped by the girl I was dating for a good nine months, so who wouldn't need to take the edge off. Then, she got us thrown out of the restaurant for yelling at me the whole damn time. I punched the wall, thenthe valet- who was hitting on my newly ex-girlfriend."
"Where did you go?" she asked. She thought: A trashy man deserves a trashy place. But… valet?
"Capital Grille," he smiled. Eat that, tease, he thought. Capital Grille was not far from the police station. Its pure walls made the station's look like the rusty, drippy walls of the soon to be remodeled holding cells. Capital Grille was more expensive than anywhere Female 424 had been on her own dime. Her eyebrows nearly got lost in her hair.
"What about you?" he asked, "Your dress?"
"I was at a frat party. Big mistake. A guy was trying to get me into one of the bedrooms, but I said kept saying no," No surprise here, the man thought.
She continued, "Finally, I agreed and he ripped my dress nearly in half just to get in my proverbial pants. So, I got pissed and got home. I didn't have money for a cab and my friend was hooking up with some guy with pink hair. So, I hoofed it and tried to cover myself up, but someone called the cops on me, I guess." This threw male 424 for a loop: She must not have cared so much about her body showing when she was alone like that.
"What do you do for a living?" she asked, thinking she'd get "Mechanic. I just barely scraped together the money for Capital Grille."
"I'm the owner of The Ink Dragon, Permanent Steel, and Pierced."
"Oh." How do you like that? he thought.
"And you?"
"I'm still in college. I took off a year to figure out what I wanted and got settled in Cambodia for a little while, helping out there. So, now I'm a waitress at a place like Dick's Last Resort called Owl's Mistake." Dick's Last Resort is a sparsely known place where the waitstaff makes fun of the customers and plays pranks, giving the customers hats which say things like "I Have Granny Panties". There is one not far from 424, however there is an up and coming restaurant similar which combines Hooters and Dick's Last Resort called Owl's Mistake.
"Isn't that the place that ran Hooter's out of business?"
"Yeah." She works there? Damn. Either she's tough or just doesn't care about what other people think. There were a few moments of silence where the 424 pair wondered what else to say.
"I have to be honest. You're not who I thought you were," the woman said.
"Me neither," said the man.
"I thought you were a thug."
"I thought you were a bitch."
"I'm Levy."
"Name's Gajeel."
"Nice to meet you," Levy said with a smile.
"You, too," Gajeel said.
"I'm… going to go to sleep." Surprisingly, I trust him enough to sleep here. This all came from Levy.
Gajeel responded, both aloud and in his head: "Maybe sleep will do a drunk good." You know, she's kind of nice. And she don't look too bad either.
Maybe my judgement was wrong.
The next morning, an officer is sent to wake those who remain in the holding cells. He goes to the back and wakes them on his way back to the door, so he can leave quickly after the inevitable fighting begins. He finds Cell 848 with one man's shirt bloody, the other has a broken nose, but they're already half awake. The officer moves on. Cell 636 has two women. One has her bra half off- she's been in here almost every night for the past five years and is drooling on her cot. The officers mercilessly call her Homeless Bra- the double entendre is all she is known by around the station. She never wakes up with it on. The other woman has brought her cot as far away from Homeless Bra as she could and is facing her, not daring to turn her back. The officer smacks his baton on their cell bars, jolting the poor prostitute and her homeless cellmate awake. He shakes his head and moves on to 424. His eyes widen. For the first time, he sees two silently sleeping people in custody. Their backs are to each other, each facing the walls, firmly tucked under the blanket. They must have had a peaceful night. Strange, the officer thought. He reluctantly raised his baton, almost not wanting to wake them. Then, he remembered they were criminals. The pair were here for a reason. He brought the baton down hard enough to almost scare himself. Damn bastards. The officer left after that, since 212 had emptied since the officers' shifts changed the night before. Soon, 424 would be empty, too.