Hinto fiddled with the hem of his shirt as he watched those in front of him in line being searched and patted down; he and Indira were quickly ascending the queue.
He would have never agreed to this if it wasn't for one of his friends.
Indira was in front of him, and was siphoned out of the line by a female guard, to whom Indira gave all her possessions and held her arms up for. She was searched for weapons and whatever else wasn't allowed inside the jail, and then sent off into the hallway to the room's right. She made a motion that told Hinto she would be waiting for him.
A pale, older man grabbed Hinto as if he were a piece of machinery being snatched from an assembly line. He set down his water skin, identification, and credentials on a table; the man searched them and Hinto held his arms up—another man felt around for contraband. The senior guard opened the skin's top and sniffed it.
"It's water," said Hinto.
"You can't bring liquids inside," he said flatly, turning the container upside down so that the water poured out and into a grate on the floor. The guard pushed it back into Hinto's chest. "You can fill it up at the tap. Go."
Hinto grabbed his things, nodded, backed away, and turned around clumsily to get out of the inspection room as quickly as possible. He was stopped at a drinking fountain that trickled dingy water when Indira came up to him.
"Sorry," she said. "I didn't know about that rule. Never tried it before.:"
"It's alright."
He screwed the cap back on and followed Indira through the concrete and iron labyrinth that was the Republic City's largest prison. It was the first of the week and, therefore, visiting day; Hinto kept his eyes on the top of Indira's head to not get lost in the crowd; it wasn't doing him much good, even though he was easily one of the tallest people in the corridor.
When Indira turned to check on him, she saw the overwhelmed look on his face and grabbed his hand. She guided him through the crowd, their two-person chain bumping into anybody they came near, which resulted into a series of angry shouts at them.
"Just ignore them," instructed Indira.
Numbered signs were hung above doorways at both the left and the right. Even numbers are for women, Indira had told him before they even left the benders' ghetto. My mom's cell is in number four.
Indira saw the fourth sign before Hinto did, and led him through it. This corridor was still crowded, though less chaotic, with men, women, and children leaning against walls, walking in circles, or sitting in the middle of the bare floor. A line had formed, stretching down the center of the room nearly to the back, and Hinto and Indira joined it. At each "next", the people in front of them took a few weary steps forward. Indira spoke quietly so as not to disturb the dull murmur of background noise.
"Please don't look surprised when you see her. Or sad, or worried."
"I know, Indira," he said, carefully trying to avoid the condescending tone that accompanied most of his words. He didn't add iI've done this before/i to the end.
"I don't want her to think she's sick."
"She knows she's sick."
Indira gave Hinto a look, but neither of them quite knew what it meant.
They eventually reached the front of the line. Indira slipped her and Hinto's I.D.'s onto the desk; on the back of Hinto's card, a stamp signified his license to practice healing. "We're here to see Soonee."
The woman at the desk looked at a piece of paper and said, flatly, "Go now; she's in the very back, on the right." Indira looked confused, but quickly grabbed up the worn pieces of paper and left down the hallway with Hinto. "Next," the woman called.
"Usually," said Indira slowly, looking in front of her with her brows knit tight. "You have to wait. Hours, sometimes. And my mom's cell isn't in the back."
"Why would they move her?" asked Hinto casually, hardly interested in the answer at all.
Indira stopped. "Oh, no."
Before Hinto could ask what was wrong, Indira sped to almost a jog.
He hurried after her and stopped at her side as a guard opened a heavy metal door.
"What?" asked Hinto.
"They put her in a cell alone. That's what's back here. She must be really bad."
"Oh."
Soonee, Indira's mother, was lying on her side and smiled serenely when the two teenagers walked in. As Hinto pulled a lone, bare chair closer to the woman, Indira rushed to her mother's bedside and embraced her. "This is Hinto," she told Soonee. "He's a waterbender, and a very good healer. He's going to help you."
"Hello, Hinto," said the middle-aged woman, her hair and skin dull from ill health.
"Hello," he replied, smiling. The guard stood in the doorway and looked on. "Should I wait or—"
"No," Indira replied quickly. "Start now."
