Page 27 of Caged In

Izz grins at Zidie, rubbing a hand over his lips to hide his reaction to his outgoing,self-proclaimed‘best friend’.He’s not protesting against it, he’s stuck here for years, having a best friend in this cage will help keep the time from dragging out for an eternity.

“Commissary is next to C-Wing, as you’ve seen. L-Wing holds the workshops. The phones are outside. . .” Reni plays his next hand, humming in thought as he makes his move. “That about covers it. The cafeteria’s easy as we practically live next door to it, and the kitchen is attached to it—obviously.”

“The library is in E-Wing and the laundry room is near G-Wing. Church is on the other side of H-Wing;” Blake adds, as everyone waits for Zidie to decide which card he will play.

Reni slaps his cards face down, slumping back in his chair, already sick of waiting for Zid to pick a card. “Hence why none of us go to the church,” Reni adds on, “and I have no idea what the place looks like, or if it actually exists, and isn’t some made-up story.”

Zidie finally throws down a card, knocking over the pile which spills over the table. “Who would bother creating a fake church story?”

Blake sighs when Zidie leaves the mess of cards where they fell. Scattered, forgotten soldiers, left out to fend for themselves. Blake sets his hand face down on the table, to gather the soldiers and reunite them in an orderlypile.

“I don’t know—” Reni snaps at Zidie. Glowering at the man who keeps interrupting his story with all his unhelpful comments.

“I’m never going to remember all that,” Izz mutters, diffusing the verbal lashing the other two are about to break into. He checks over his cards, and with a resigned sigh, throws them down and forfeits his hand.

“You will,” Isco’s deep voice rumbles over Izz’s skin.

The soft chuckle leaving Isco’s throat has Izz’s hairs standing on end. He doesn’t know why Isco creeps him out. Can’t put his finger on it, his instincts tell him to be wary—he has no idea what they know and aren’t telling him. He chooses to take their word for it and watch his back around the scarred inmate.

Zidie follows Izz’s example—only with a more dramatic flair—flinging his cards away in disgust. Leaving Blake and Isco as the remaining two to finish this round.

“Why can’t we play for contraband? I could do with some more snacks?” Zidie blurts out—or more accurately—bellows as loud as a freight train.

Izz shoots his eyes to the two guards, worried they heard—if they did, they give no indication they’re going to do anything about it. Leaning back, chatting amongst themselves, with not a care in the world about the room full of criminals they are supposed to be baby-sitting.

“Because—” Blake studies Isco as he plays his next move, looking for telling signs in the other’s stone-cold expression. “—you always bet big and lose bigger.”

“I do not.” Zidie bellows louder, drawing attention from a few inmates.

Reni leans back in his chair to peek at Blake’s cards, the paleinmate turning his cards away from Izz’s nosy cellmate. “That’s why you have a unicorn tattoo on your ass, or did you forget about that?” Blake drawls, glaring at Reni who’s attempting to view his cards again.

“I just so happen to love Mister Zombie-Uni,” Zidie slaps a hand on Izz’s back, grinning right in Izz’s face.

“You seriously named it that?” Blake blinks at Zidie in shock. Like he can see Zid doing a lot of weird things but this tops them all by far.

Isco scoffs, throwing out another card at which Blake scowls. Blake isn’t too good with his poker face unlike Isco who has a solid composureyou could cut diamonds with.

“Yup.” Zidie pops the ‘p’ loudly, interlocking his fingers behind his head to rock back in his chair smugly, revellingin his own self-satisfaction. “Z-Uni for short. Orfluffyif I’m feeling cute.”

Multiple groans from everyone around the table. The painful noise travelling throughout the room.

Izz giggles—choking the sound off before anyone else can hear it—would have been extremely embarrassing if anyone heard.

“Who bet you to get the ink?” Izz ponders, curious about his friend’s lost game.

“I deeply regret it,” Isco speaks in a flat voice, giving no actual emotions, regret or otherwise.

Zidie lets out a burst of laughter, sticking his tongue out at the scarred inmate.

Izz laughs tentatively—but cuts off short, not comfortable enough around Isco to know if he’s allowed to laugh at the other.

~~~

They file into the cafeteria, clumping in a group at the back of the queue. Izz’s lighter than he had been for breakfast, his worries slipping away in their bantering over hours of card games. He never won a game but enjoyed himself, nonetheless.

“Inmate A-18910. Counsellor wants to see you.”

The guard who addresses him is young. Can’t be older thantwenty-one, surely. Giving off a harshdon’t-fuck-with-mevibe. A real you’ll-end-up-eating-out-of-a-straw-in-a-hospital-if-you-try-itmentality.

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