Ollie stepped in the cell, then checked over his shoulder. “Glad I’m not the only one.”

“What?”

“Your cellmate, the silver fox, looks like a psycho, too.”

“Who you sharing with?”

Ollie scrunched his face. “Teddy Saul.”

Rory frowned. As a name went, it seemed friendly enough. “How long’s he in for?”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t speak.”

“Doesn’t speak?”

“I asked the guard about it, he’s not said a word since he arrived here ten years ago.”

Rory widened his eyes at the ten years—Teddy’s crime must’ve been severe.

“He grunted at me when he saw me, and I said hello in reply, that was as far as our conversation has gone.”

“Me and Sebastian haven’t exactly hit it off.”

Rory opened the small cabinet and shoved his clothes in the spare space. Sebastian may have looked at him like he wanted him dead, but he at least had the manners to clear him a space.

“Breakfast’s happening below.”

Rory nodded. “Then we better get to it.”

They walked back out on to the landing, and most of the curious faces were distracted by food. Rory wrinkled his nose at the smell of burned toast, and watery egg. There was a line, but many inmates walked in front of them and got served first. They didn’t protest, but lowered their gazes and waited their turn.

The toast was black, and no amount of scraping the charred bread could revive it. The eggs were at least edible, and the coffee, although weak, was soothing on Rory’s taste buds.

Ollie pointed out Teddy. “That’s my cellmate.”

He sat at a table by himself, and scooped eggs in his mouth like he was pressed for time. Bald head, but he made up for it with a dark beard. He wore a tank top, and although less muscular than Sebastian and Captain, he was still pretty defined.

Ollie leaned closer. “Looks crazy, don’t he?”

“He might be all right.”

“What about your cellmate?”

Sebastian was engaged in intense conversation with two other inmates, his lips stopped moving, he frowned, then he looked at Rory. Rory spluttered his coffee, drawing the unwanted attention of the neighboring table. They laughed, and one of the group lifted his head.

“Can’t handle your drink, sweetheart?”

Rory didn’t reply to the man. He wiped the coffee off the table with his sleeve and didn’t glance up.

“Didn’t you hear me, sweetheart?”

“Say something back,” Ollie muttered.

“Like what?”

“I dunno.”

Rory raised the cup. “It’s hot.”

“Glad you think so, you’re not bad either.”

“No, I meant the coffee.”

“Am I not hot then?”

Captain walked into view then sat down at the table, blocking both Rory and Ollie from the men behind. Rory inwardly sighed with relief and wondered whether Captain knew he’d just saved him.