Shoo bee doo bee doo bah!

-D.O.C

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I don't intend to offend anyone!

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Scott was awoken by a loud scuffle, and he jumped out of his bunk.

'Oh, he's serious. He's gonna kill me! He's gonna kill me!'

It was well-past, "lights out," and he could barely see anything, but, he could make out the large figure of his cellmate, pressed against the bars, whispering harshly.

"Say that again. I dare you."

Jund carefully sat back down, lying down, as quietly as possible.

He strained his ears to hear the muffled reply, "I said, I bet you're having a lot of fun with that new cellmate, of yours."

"Fuck off."

"Aw, is he still a little tender?"

"That's it." Scott rolled off his bunk, and slammed himself into the bars. "I swear to god, if you say something like this, again, I'll kick your ass!"

All was silent, until the rest of the hall started to howl with laughter.

Guards came in to check on the prisoners, and Snake hastily shoved the younger man backwards.

"Get in your bed, and act like you're asleep."

At the authoritative command, Jund found himself doing as he was told, and he tucked the blanket over his head.

He heard the doors clang open, and he could just hear his asshole of a roomie smirking.

"Evenin', men. How was patrol?"

"Snake, we can't have people fighting. You know this."

"It wasn't him! It was his bitch!" A loud voice echoed around.

"Please," Snake scoffed, "the little whelp has been asleep, for hours."

"Whatever you say, Snake." The sound of handcuffs being fastened was shockingly loud.

The door was shut, and locked, once more, and the boyish guy perked his head upwards.

The lights shut off, and Scott scanned the cell. No Snake.

"What the hell?" he sat in front of the bars, peering through them at the hallway. "Where'd he go?"

A few sly whispers answered him, but they were all lewd, except for one.

"They're taking him to the warden's. Get this all straightened out."

"What straightened out?" Jund craned his neck, deciding that the helpful murmer had come from the cell next to his.

"This whole mess. You weren't even supposed to be put in with Snake. The guy's a psychopath."

Scott's eyebrow twitched. Sure, the guy was scary as shit, but, it was nothing he couldn't handle. He wasn't some little girl!

The rest of the prisoners faded out, and the thin man assumed they were either listening along with him, or trying to catch some winks, before they were awoken, again.

"How's he a psychopath?"

"Kid, did he even tell you what he did?"

"Yeah... murder." Jund tried to make his voice flat. These people didn't need to know that the fact gave him, quite frankly, the heebie-jeebies.

"And, what did you do?"

"Trafficking."

The voice came closer, and he guessed that the other male had scooted to the wall, between them.

"So, tell me, kid... Why would they put you, at your first offense, in a tank with the sociopathic... cluster-fuck of insanity, that is Snake?"

A few rumbles of agreement bounced off of the cinderblocks, and Scott's eyes narrowed, involuntarily.

"I don't really get it-"

"Please. Spare me. Lemme guess, he constantly has his nose buried in a book."

Jund looked back at the copy of To Kill a Mockingbird, nestled, almost lovingly, between Snake's pillow and the wall.

"I'll take that as a yes. Is he always cleaning?"

Those icy eyes always took a break from the page, to sweep over the floor, checking for dust, periodically.

"Yeah..."

"Does he get violent?"

"All the damn time," Scott snorted.

"All of those are classic, in-fucking-sane traits, m'dear. Snake's not fit for even this prison. He's always messing with gangs, messing with guards, even messing with the warden. He's a risk to everyone."

Jund lied backwards, chewing those sentences over.

Finally, without sitting back up, he replied, "Who did he kill, to get in here?"

"Some people, like that penpal he's always gloating about, will tell you it was an accident. He'll tell you it was a public-service. These guys'll tell you it was a cold-blooded kill."

"And?"

"Well, the pigs will tell you it was plain murder. The warden? He'll tell you what the file says."

Scott found himself sitting up, once more, and gripping the bars. "What will you tell me?"

He could hear the rustle of clothing. That guy was shrugging. "I'll tell you the nitty-gritty. He killed a politician that was hoarding money. I heard he was some agent, who was supposed to take him in, but then... just took him out."

Jund stood up, and just sighed.

"Well, good for all of you, then."

"Hm?"

He sat on his bunk, and raised his voice, a bit.

"I'll believe it, when I get a second opinion."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The adjacent-cell's occupant asked.

"Nothin'." Scott's head hit the pillow, and he dragged the cover over himself.

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Snake was walked into his cell, and he glared, when he saw the lump, underneath the second bunk's blanket.

"I thought I was getting my own, again."

"Not at all, Snake. Mr. Iplier was very adamant that you don't get your own cell."

"No, he's adamant that I don't get my own way."

The woman, uncuffing him, chuckled. "Probably. Have a good one, Snake. Keep outta trouble."

The door slid shut, and locks chunked.

The man wasted no time in throwing the covers off his cellmate.

"Thanks to you, I had to spend all night-"

Snake paused, when the younger male curled up tighter, eyelids squeezing shut, harder.

The bastard was a heavy sleeper.

"Snake..." Scotted mumbled, burrowing the side of his face into his pillow.

'Is this little asshole dreaming about me?' Snake scowled, darkly.

"Snake..." A long-fingered hand was throw outwards, catching onto his wrist.

'The gall of this one.' His lip curled, but he found the unconcious persistence a bit... charming.

"Snake!" The whimper caught him off guard, and the man's brows twitched out of their constantly-annoyed position.

"What?!" He growled, jerking his hand away, face heating, slightly.

"Snake... Fuck... Off..."

Oh?

So... That's how things were?

Alright.

Scott was- rudely- awoken, by the cover of a paperback book being slapped to his cheek.

"OW! WHAT THE HELL?!"

"Go dream about someone else." The larger man yawned, smirking at the angry expression on his roomate's face.

Jund snarled, grabbing the book, but then stopped.

"Hey... Since when did you start hitting me with paperbacks?"

Snake paused, "Well, wouldn't want you to lose too many braincells."

The thinner man growled something unintelligible.

"See? You can't even use words, correctly."

"I said, that you should go to hell."

"Hm. Creative. You only have three braincells left, and they're all fighting for attention."

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Wow. They stopped fighting so violently, and their characters developed, a bit.

I'm proud.

-D.O.C