An influx of prisoners was due to arrive, abolishing the momentary quiet. The Warden considered this and thought nothing of it. What could he do? Half of earth was turned to get these men sentenced to execution. He had a job to do. There was no arguing with that.
The first of the prisoners took the cell right across from Alfred. At first he seemed to be no trouble, shuffling in his issued uniform and trudging through the halls. His steps echoed. Alfred heard the steps and edged to the end of his bed, peering down the awfully long hallway. A shadow stretched towards him. It shook and rattled occasionally as the man made his way, cuffed by Billy.
When he reached his cell, he was another story altogether. He struggled against the metal clutching his wrist, spitting insults and howling in Italian. His dark, curled hair was casting strange, laced shadows on the hard tile. Alfred clutched the bars of his cell, staring wide-eyed at the newcomer.
"You fucking bastard I'll rip your damn ears off and drown you in the toilet!" The man shrieked, kicking and spitting like a caged lion.
Billy barely batted an eye. He led the new man, Lovino Vargas head of a Mafia Family, into the cell and nodded to the men around him. The ambled off, finding more cufflinks and chaining the man to the floor.
At that point Lovino quieted down, barely. He sat immobile on the bed, his palms flat against the thin sheets. He stared at a wall. He did not speak again until after he and Alfred were issued dinner.
He raised his head and quietly mumbled: "Ah, wait until my Grandfather hears of this!"
Officer Warren was intrigued, despite Billy's cold glare. He walked past Lovino's cell, standing in the middle of the hallway. It was likely the young man would throw his hands out in an attempt to strange him.
Lovino remained seated. He passed his tongue over his dry lips. Now, Alfred could see him better. He had an angular face and tanned skin, heavily Italian. His voice was accented, but his English understandable. In the prison clothes he looked scrawny. But he must have looked fetching and commanding in a tuxedo.
"What will your grandfather do?" Officer Warren ventured, mostly out of boredom. But a part of him was just as intrigued as Alfred behind him.
Alfred's fingers curled over the bars, like spiders creeping up a pole.
"Will he come and punish us like most Mafia men do?" Billy sneered, having had quite enough of this.
"Oh, he's dead." Lovino said, then repeated himself in Italian. "Looonggg dead."
Billy scoffed, turning away. He felt idiotic for having spoken with an obviously catatonic, dangerous convict. Officer Warren continued despite even the Warden's wary hissing at him to stop.
"Then what will he do when he hears of this?"
"Think of it!" Lovino cried out, "You'll go up to St. Peter's and grandfather will be there. 'Scandali! They locked up my grandson! Send them straight to the burning depths of Hell! Unlike you idioti I am not afraid of death. There are many up there," Lovino pointed a scarred forefinger upwards, "And they await me with open arms! And you constantly fear death, putting those who could easily relinquish you into these cells and then into the big frying pan."
"He's delusional." Billy said, grabbing Officer Warren by the arm gruffly and pulling him away. He ran a hand through his thinning hair in exasperation. "Just ignore him."
Officer Warren looked behind him, a final, strangled look. Lovino was not paying attention. He was staring at Alfred, and his eyes were wide with what looked like fear.