Alfie didn’t want to give an inch, bow, or blink first. He had to show no fear, even though the giant in front of him was more than capable of crushing his head with a hand or decapitating him with a skilled kick.

The prisoner rubbed his lips together with a hum. “I don’t have to say anything, only have to look.”

Alfie frowned and wobbled his head in confusion.

Then the prisoner flashed his eyes down, roamed from Alfie’s feet right up to the ruffled hair on his head.

Alfie resisted the urge to shuffle at the attention, but he couldn’t stop heat glowing in his cheeks. The prisoner’s eyes metaphorically tore the clothes from his flesh, and left him cold, fighting the need to shiver.

A toothy smile spread the man’s lips, and his eyes crinkled. He looked older, but not in a bad way. The wrinkles that lined his eyes, and cut through his brow, matured him and made him look handsome.

“See, only a look, and it’s a fine look. I like what I see. I like it a lot,” he whispered.

“I said to watch your tongue.”

The prisoner closed his eyes and sucked his bottom lip as if savoring a taste. “Watch and tongue in the same sentence. That’s a dirty tease, Freshman. All I’m gonna imagine later is—"

“Last warning.” Alfie snapped.

The prisoner smiled, then nodded. “Okay, Freshman. I don’t wanna end on bad terms. I might even treat you to breakfast in the morning. I usually come down about seven.”

Alfie shook his head. “I won’t be here for your breakfast, thanks for the offer.”

The prisoner bunched his lips together, and lines of amusement appeared around his eyes. “You hurt my feelings, use me like that and run out in the morning. That’s harsh, Freshman. Most unexpected for a man with a pretty face like yours.”

Alfie snorted. “There goes your last chance.”

He knocked his radio to the gate, and the metallic ping got the attention of the chatting officers. They looked up and raised their eyebrows in unison. If Alfie wasn’t annoyed it would’ve looked funny. A progression of age through their eyebrows. The thirty-year-old Ian, had a bushy black set, the man beside him, Keith had streaks of grey through his, and then there was Henry, white and sparse on his brow all the way to his ears.

“What is it, fish?” Henry shouted.

Alfie chomped the inside of his cheek, then released the flesh and forced a smile. “Isn’t he supposed to be somewhere?”

The prisoner narrowed his eyes and stared to the ceiling as if considering some complex problem. Then he levelled his head and stared Alfie in the eye.

“Fish? If anyone in here shares traits with a fish, it’s Henry and his stench.”