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Stripes

[********, ********, GET HIM-"

"Everyone, just calm down-!"

"Now, what were y'saying?"

"WATCH OUT, HE HAS A-"

"I dun believe I caught it da first time."

"Please, PLEASE, get out of the way-"

"Move it, rats!"

"Come on, now." The man tilts his head to the side in a detached, curious manner. There's a disturbingly vacant glaze to his eyes as he stares down at the muscular, tattooed man beneath him. Gripped tightly in his hand, the tazer almost seems to hum, as if begging to be used. Well... They'll take care of that soon enough, won't they? The tattooed man's eyes widen in fear, and his lips flap helplessly over his tongue, which has been tugged out by a pair of pincer-like fingers. Teasingly, the tazer is waved dangerously close to his tongue, and he makes a strangled, desperate noise in the back of his throat. His captor just smiles, and easily ignores the chaos that's erupting all around him. "What's wrong?" he continues, and suddenly, life seems to spark in his pale blue eyes. His smile twists, warps, until his entire face is contorted into a look of demonic glee.

"Does... something gotcher tongue?"

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

"Now, Devon, why did you attack that other prisoner in the mess hall today?"

The blond man doesn't respond, and seems damned determined to stare off into space, his mouth moving to unfamiliar words silently. The prison councilor resists the urge to frown. Dealing with Devon Hawking is always a difficult endeavor, for the man seems to just not care what happens to him. Oh, he's certainly heard the reports... Hawking, responsible for dozens of homicides and experiments that would make any mad scientist green. Allowed himself to be taken in with a smile, they say.

For some reason, the idea of Devon smiling disturbs the councilor more then it should, even though he knows that the blond smiles all the time...

With a sigh, he tries again. "Devon?" Slowly, Devon's lips stop moving. "Will you tell me why you attacked that prisoner earlier today?"

With a languid roll of his neck, Devon gives a thoughtful hum and tilts his head so that the light reflecting off his glasses hides his eyes. Subtly, his hands move from their place together on the table, only noticeable by the light clink his handcuffs make. "Oh," he says suddenly, and gives a smirk. "You mean... What's his face. Aaron?" A careless shrug. "No reason. Something about the food. He has an impressive body, don't you think, Dr. Alset?" There's an eerie casualness in his voice and his smile as his eyes suddenly land on him, and the councilor can't help but shudder. For how easy-going he sounds, there's something about his eyes....

"So." The doctor almost can't find it in him to continue. "You have no reason for that outburst?"

Dark amusement is in Devon's smile as he inspects Alset. "No," he says, his voice twisting in a sing-song taunt. "None ah all. And that just terrifies ya, dunnit, doc?"

"Not at all," Alset says hollowly, and he knows that Devon can see through the lie with little effort. "I... think we're done for the day, Devon."

It's right as the guard is hauling the blond man up onto his feet that Devon suddenly goes, "That reminds me, doc. Tink it's worryin' when it feels as 'tho yer heart is about to implode into shrapnel?"

Alset's pen freezes, and ink leaks into a single spot on the report he's filling out. "Are you having heart problems, Devon?"

An unkind grin, and the words, "Oh, no. Not a' all." It's that tone of voice that clearly means he's not going to say anymore on the matter, so Alset leaves it at that.

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Air claws at the inside of his throat, desperate to get in but unable to, and Devon just grins savagely while he arches up ag