So, he's been in a few times. A few misdemeanors here and there nothing that warranted serious concern for him at least. However, it had happened enough in the past year that his so called friends spitefully refused to pick him up until morning – well, later in the morning as it was nearly four.
He still wasn't concerned.
He looked up from where he had been staring at illegible words scratched into the wall when he heard laughter coming from down the hallway.
It wasn't often that he found anyone attractive, but even he had to admit that the man was gorgeous.
He's what Colonello's novels would describe as "tall dark and handsome".
The man was even wearing a suit for Christ's sake.
As the group approached his cell, he turned to fully face the graffiti on the wall.
He did not at all expect Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome to enter and expected the door to close behind him even less.
Eyes on the wall. Eyes on the wall.He repeated the mantra until it was broken until the man addressed him.
"I suppose you're my roommate for tonight?" now that he could hear the man's voice clearly, it was obvious that the man was foreign.
"Obviously," he drawled without turning to face him.
He could hear the man settle himself on the bed across from the one he was on, "Is there a story behind the hair or is there a fad I'm missing out on?" the man chuckled.
He patted his hair with a frown, "It wasn't intentional."
There was a slight pause, "This might just be me, but I prefer to see the faces of people who have the potential to kill me in my sleep."
He stifled a laugh and fortunately his voice came out flat, "Personally, I would prefer my murderer to be anonymous. "
"Oh? Why is that?"
"If I knew their face I could be inclined to feel betrayed and I would rather die with less dramatic thoughts."
The man chuckled again, "Name's Renato."
"That's nice. You're from Italy, yes?"
"Sicily," he agreed. "And, this might also just be me, but aren't you supposed to give your name during an introduction?"
"People call me Verde."
Renato snorted, "Because of the hair?"
"No, it's because I get sea sick. Of course it's because of the hair."
When he thought the man would finally leave him alone he spoke again, "So, what are you in for?"
Verde turned but only enough to bury his face in the old mattress and groan.
"I can't say I've gotten that reaction before. Most people think I'm charming."
"You make a habit of chatting up strangers in prison?"
"One: there is only one cell in here. So, it's hardly a prison. And no, only prisoners with odd fashion sense."
Verde looked down at himself, he was wearing an old pair of plaid sleep pants, his "science shirt" as Colonello had dubbed it, his lab coat, and worn slippers.
The man had a point.
"Not everyone dresses up to get arrested," he snarked meeting Renato's gaze head on, "Did you dress specifically for this occasion?"
"You never know when you'll meet someone interesting."
"I suppose."
Renato crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knees, "Since you won't tell me, I'll guess." He hummed in thought while he blatantly looked him over. "I got it! You're in for speeding."
"…what?"
"I can see it now," Renato raised his hands to add dramatic flair, "You were woken up in the middle of the night by your pregnant wife you desperately wanted avocado ice-cream-"
"Hey-"
"Wait, I'm not done. You finally found the ice-cream and as you raced home you were pulled over and since it was your first serious violation they let you spend the night here instead of shipping you out to state," he paused, "Thoughts?"
Verde steepled his fingers and raised his eyebrows, "There are several flaws in your story."
"Oh, do tell," he leaned forward again.
"I don't have a car," he stuck out his first finger, "And I most definitelydo nothave a wife pregnant or otherwise."
"You said several, that's only two."
"You are infuriating."
"You mean charming?"
"Absolutely not."
A curse was heard after the sound of something falling.
"Are you going to tell me or not?"
"Fine," Verde sighed, "It was a noise complaint."
"Hah. You don't get arrested forjusta noise complaint."
"It wasn'tjusta noise complaint. It was possibly several noise complaints."
"You don't seem to be much of a partier," Verde gave him a 'what do you think?' stare, "Maybe you have a pennant for death metal at high volumes."
It was Verde's turn to laugh, "Unfortunately, that is not the case."
"Then what is?"
"My neighbors don't appreciate science."
"Don't appreciate?" Renato smirked – and Verde would swear his heart stopped for a moment, "You blew something up. Multiple complaints, you're a pyro!"
Verde actually scoffed, "I amnotapyromaniac, I'm a chemist."
Renato's laugh was something he wouldn't mind hearing again.
"Fine, what about you? Mr. Dresses-Up-To-Get-Arrested. Did your pregnant wife desperately need something?"
"No, no. Nothing as ridiculous as that I was simply standing around at the wrong time."
"So, you were loitering?"
Renato inspected his nails, "Some may call it that," he looked up with a smirk, "Maybe I just wanted to meet a pyromaniac."
"You really are infuriating."
"Hmm, so you say."
Verde watched the clock on the wall outside the cell. It was dusty and was cracked down the middle but he could still make out the time – it was almost five and Colonello got up at six, on weekdays.
"When's your time up?"
Verde glared at him, "My," he sighed, "friend, should be here around seven."
"Do you have work?"
He shook his head, "Not on Mondays, you?"
"I'm self-employed, I work when I feel like it."
"Crime isn't a career."
"Get arrested once and suddenly you're a criminal…"
"How do I know this is your first time?"
"You would have seen me before," Renato smirked.
"How do you know this isn't my first time?"
"You're far too comfortable here. There is no way you aren't a repeat offender."
Verde waved his hand, "You're just as comfortable here as I am. There is no wayyouaren't a repeat offender."
"It's called confidence, Green-Man."
"Green-Man? Really?"
"I'll admit it isn't my best work. Want me to try again?"
"I would rather you not."
"Whatever you say, Julio."
"Julio?"
"You know Julio Gonzalaz, the famous pyro."
Verde scowled, "Please don't compare me to a sociopath."
"Fine. Fine. If you aren't a professional fire-starter, what do you do? Mr. Doesn't Work Mondays."
Verde crossed his arms defiantly, "If you must know, I'm a compound pharmacist, Mr. Convict. If you even know what that means."
"I swear, I'm legally employed! I pay taxes and everything!" he paused momentarily, "And of course I know what a compounding pharmacist is! You wound me!"
"Oh? Then what is it?"
Is was Renato's turn to scowl, "You make medications. Probably in a hospital if I have you pegged right."
"Why do you say that?" he cocked a brow.
"Less people to deal with," he shrugged, "You're not very sociable."
The squeak of shoes on tile sounded down the hallway, keeping Verde from retorting. The sound grew louder and a police woman frowned as she unlocked the cell door.
"A Colonello is here to retrieve you," she glared at Verde, "Please try to stay out of trouble."
With one last look at his cellmate Verde followed the woman out.
"I hope we meet again, Green-Man!"