Sucre watched T-Bag leave the cell before turning to his cellie, who was still as a statue on the edge of his bunk. What had just happened in here?
One thing Sucre knew about the fish: he didn't do touch; Sucre had let his emotions get the best of him before and he'd hugged the man, who'd reacted with stiff muscles and obvious surprise. And Fish trusted Sucre, well, as much as he trusted anyone. But T-Bag? T-Bag, the pedophile, the rapist, the murderer…T-Bag had been in here, grabbing his face, his hand on his knee, and the fish was stock still. He hadn't punched the man, hadn't even jerked away. What the fuck?
"What the fuck, Fish?" he asked, looking down at the silent man. "You just gonna let T-Bag come in here and fuck with you like that?" Sucre looked out into the tier before lowering his voice, so only his cellie could hear him. "'Cause he wants you, Fish. You know what I mean?"
But the fish didn't move. Sucre felt a disgusting, squelching feeling in his chest suddenly. Had T-Bag done something to him? He stood in front of the fish and looked at him closer. There were pinkish marks on his face…finger marks. Sucre swore under his breath. Was that it, or was there more?
"Papi, talk to me," he begged quietly. "Come on, man. You're freaking me out!"
Suddenly, Michael's blue eyes locked on his. "I'm fine," he said. His voice was impassive, unemotional, everything it usually was. Sucre took a breath.
"Shit, fish. Don't do that, man." Sucre was glad that his cellie was back to normal, but he wondered what had happened. Why would Fish let T-Bag at him like that? He sighed, leaning back against the wall. "What was he doing in here anyway? Why'd you let him in?"
Michael blinked. "I didn't," he replied. The cell doors slid shut with loud clanging.
"Well, you better watch yourself, Papi," Sucre warned. "'Cause T-Bag's scum, pure and simple. The tricks he's got up his sleeve—"
"I know, Sucre," Michael said, cutting him off harshly.
Sucre paused for a second, then nodded. "Okay," he said, and pushed himself onto his bunk without another word.
