"Mmhmm," she hums. She'd take fire over more interpersonal bullshit. "I don't know a lot of details, but some new inmate killed Rawne –– guy from maintenance, if you don't know him. If wardens are doing anything, I haven't heard about it, but Rawne gave the guy's description to some other inmates and they're going to track him down and kill him."
And she's not included, thank fuck for that.
"One wants me to hold on to some contraband for him if he gets killed, just in case some warden searches his cabin, and I don't feel like getting ragged on for saying no. Hopefully it won't come to that, but just in case..."
She gestures vaguely at Arthur. She's not fucking around with a third incident in two months.
He gestures vaguely back - he gets it, he understands. "I'm glad you told me. Stash it, we'll make a show of finding it if we gotta. Ain't Rawne's warden gonna do anything?"
"If I hear it went well, I won't need to take anything, will I?" she replies, heading out the door after him. She gestures to the stairs up, locks her door behind her and heads off ahead of him to lead. "If I don't hear at all, then he's gotten killed."
“Matches, alcohol, photos, probably some shivs or something, if he isn’t an idiot.”
The last bit is a guess, but anyone who doesn’t craft something in the absence of a real weapon deserves to be called stupid.
She brings Arthur to the fifth floor, to Pagan’s room, and she pauses at the door handle to glance down the hall. No one around for now. She gives Arthur a playful little shhh gesture, finger to her lips, and lets herself in.
"Works for me," he reminds her. "Well, with me. I put a brush in his hand and he pretends to be the most glamorous painter on the whole Barge - poor Ellie."
"He's obnoxious as hell," Tess replies, but that is at least in part why she likes him. He's transparent, more-so than her in many ways. She wanders his room, opening the closet to reveal his collection of colourful suits. "Doing work in custodial must be novel to him, rich guy like that. I bet it's like those people that spend thousands of dollars to fly to Africa just to sloppily paint fences and then come back and tell everyone about the charity work they did."
"A lot of inmates like you," she replies. "You're not a sanctimonious asshole."
She closes the closet and starts idly looking through drawers next, curious almost by habit. She won't take anything, but hey, she was invited to go through his shit.
"Uh, all of them?" she chuckles, rifling through a stack of books, all in a foreign language. She flips between the pages like she might find something tucked in there. "It's pretty much in the job title. The obvious party is leading the pack, though."
Their best isn't good enough, Tess thinks, but he's not wrong. She would give Arthur all the leeway in the world for treating her like a partner in this rather than a project. She snaps the book shut and puts it away, giving the floorboards a glance. They seem firm under her feet, and there's no obvious gap of a board that needs to come in and out.
"You hold me accountable, and that's the difference," she replies. Flippantly: "And they aren't fun to drink with."
“I think so, we’re slippery people.” She grins, resuming going through Pagan’s things. There’s the matches and cigarettes — she’s surprised to not find anything harder. “Sacrifice a deck chair.”
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He slips inside and closes the door behind him.
"Not a chance. We'll be lucky if nothing's set on fire. So - what's happenin'?"
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And she's not included, thank fuck for that.
"One wants me to hold on to some contraband for him if he gets killed, just in case some warden searches his cabin, and I don't feel like getting ragged on for saying no. Hopefully it won't come to that, but just in case..."
She gestures vaguely at Arthur. She's not fucking around with a third incident in two months.
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He gestures vaguely back - he gets it, he understands. "I'm glad you told me. Stash it, we'll make a show of finding it if we gotta. Ain't Rawne's warden gonna do anything?"
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She shrugs.
“Quentin doesn’t really keep on top of Rawne.” Case in point: he doesn’t know jack shit about the bootleg. “So maybe, maybe not.”
She pulls out her communicator to glance at a message. She pockets it again.
“Come on. I gotta wait at the cabin to collect the stuff, he’s left the door unlocked for me.”
Arthur will figure out it’s Pagan the moment they cross the door, but that’s fine by Tess.
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"And what you gotta wait for? If the door's unlocked we should just go in."
He's already moving. Geez, just like old times.
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He lights a cigarette as they go. "What materials are we talking about, exactly?"
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The last bit is a guess, but anyone who doesn’t craft something in the absence of a real weapon deserves to be called stupid.
She brings Arthur to the fifth floor, to Pagan’s room, and she pauses at the door handle to glance down the hall. No one around for now. She gives Arthur a playful little shhh gesture, finger to her lips, and lets herself in.
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He follows her, and sees right away whose room it is. He waits to groan until the door is closed behind them, and then rubs a hand over his eyes.
"This guy? He'll never keep himself outta trouble."
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"Good thing he's not your problem, yeah?" she says. "Ellie's his temp this month. I tipped her off, too."
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"Works for me," he reminds her. "Well, with me. I put a brush in his hand and he pretends to be the most glamorous painter on the whole Barge - poor Ellie."
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"Don't know about all'a that, but I'm sure he never even saw a mop, before. But I think he must respect me at least a little, to do the work he does."
Half-assed as it is. He's got a soft spot for him, damn himself.
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She closes the closet and starts idly looking through drawers next, curious almost by habit. She won't take anything, but hey, she was invited to go through his shit.
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Normally going through people's stuff is Arthur's jam, but right now he just leans against a wall and watches her do it.
"Who is? One obvious party aside."
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"Think he stuck something in the floorboards?"
He isn't checking. He will not.
"I think most people are just tryin' their best. You just like me because I don't give you any bullshit."
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"You hold me accountable, and that's the difference," she replies. Flippantly: "And they aren't fun to drink with."
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"Well, I got plenty of practice at that," he jokes back, pushing away from the wall.
"What'd you find?"
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This time. She moves to the trunk and crouches down to unsnap the latches. Efficient work, even with only one arm.
"You have any plans for New Year's?"
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"More of that drinking," is all. "You?"
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"We should absolutely do that. Think we could get away with starting a fire on Deck, while everyone's gone?"
They're gonna be the ones cleaning the mess, anyway.
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"I thought for sure this guy would have drugs," he comments, at that, and then:
"Yeah, let's do that. See who else wants to show up, I'll bring some good booze."
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FEEL FREE TO DROP I'm a lil late
nah I'm good I always have energy for Arthur B)
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