Disclaimer: Again, I do not own this. Belongs to Stephen King and so on and so forth.

Author's Note: Thanks to the people who have read this!

Three.

The men started their way back down the Mile. Paul nodded his head at me, a signal for me to follow. We went into the office and sat around. Paul was behind the desk, everyone else took a seat while Dean pulled Del's card to take him down to the infirmary. I could think about nothing but Percy's menacing stare. Paul was asking everybody's opinion on Coffey. They talked about how big he was and wondered if he was feeble minded.

"I believe so that he is," I finally spoke up and they all turned their attention to me. "He gave me the impression that he almost didn't know why he was put here."

"He deserves to fry for what he done," Harry said, handing Paul a notebook.

Paul set it aside and gave me a look for me to go on. I did.

"Well, I'm not advocating his actions, Mr. Terwilliger, I'm just sayin' that he prolly doesn't know he's done wrong."

"I agree with Eleanor," Brutal spoke up, "Seems like he doesn't belong here. But he is a murderer and we need to treat him as such."

I nodded and watched the men look at me. I didn't have anything else to say. Dean and Harry went on to take Del to the infirmary and Paul excused himself to step outdoors for awhile, leaving me alone with Brutus Howell.

"Paul's told us a lot about us," he brought up.

"Oh, yeah, like what?"

He stood and situated himself upon the desk. "Oh, about school and things like that. How you nearly made it as valedictorian. That's quite a feat."

"Yeah, well, I didn't get it, so," I shrugged my shoulders. "It's just another thing that could have been, you know."

"You should still be proud. Paul boasts about you just as much as he did his boy."

He was talking about my cousin Andrew who had gone off to an Ivy League to be a lawyer in a big city. "Andy's quite something himself."

Brutus nodded in approval. "I'd never met him, though. I'm sure he's a fine young man, just as you are a fine young woman."

"You hardly know me, Mr. Howell," I said playfully. "How are you so sure I'm not some lunatic that could kill you at any minute right now?"

He grinned and decided to play along with it, "Oh, yeah, now that you mention it. You probably do have the potential. Pitying prisoners and all." He tipped me a wink and stood. "I think I'll go check on them before you hit me over the head with a blunt object."

"You may just want to do so, Brutus."

I followed him out to the Mile, but took a seat behind the desk. I watched him walk the Mile and check into the cells, making sure the inmates were doing okay, asking if they needed anything. Brutal was probably the kindest stranger I'd ever met. Nothing at all like that Percy Wetmore, who just happened to walk back inside.

"Hey, where'd everybody go?" He turned to look at me. "I asked you a question. You deaf?"

"I wasn't aware that another human was speaking to me, is all," I gave him a trying look, testing his patience.

He narrowed his eyes at me, "I didn't know it was so hard for a damn woman to answer a question. I guess your brain can't comprehend such a complex thing."

"If you want an answer so badly, why don't you go ask Brutus? He's just down there speaking to John Coffey."

"Who said I wanted an answer 'so badly'?" He shot Brutus a glance and in that hateful glance, I knew the true reason he didn't want to go down there. He was afraid of Brutal.

"You seemed so eager. But I must have mistaken it for nosiness."

"You think that just because Edgecomb is your uncle, you can say whatever you like to me. I have news for you. I know people. Big people."

"Well, you're such a little man I already assumed every person you know is big."

Did my ears deceive me or did I hear a faint chuckle from the other end of the Mile?

"We have a comedian," he had a nasty look on his face. "Just keep in mind that I know big people, Edgecomb."

"So do I: Brutal Howell and John Coffey. Biggest men I've ever met." I was trying my hardest to not laugh at him. "And it's not Edgecomb, it's Pierce. Eleanor Pierce."

He looked me up and down before saying, "Percy Wetmore."

The way he looked at me was as if he were sizing me up, almost as though he wanted to fight. Did he consider me a worthy adversary? But then again, what I gathered from what little I knew about Percy Wetmore, he considered everyone he came across as a worthy adversary. In his mind, the world was against him.