"-- Clovis."
The brown-haired man stirred from his small nap on the wall-mounted bed at the sound of his name. He glanced at a larger inmate, a Katharic male covered in tattoos and cultural markings. Clovis looked at what he was holding: a small paper bag that was discreetly shown to him, away from the viewing on the other side of the bars.
The Kathar spoke as he passed it over to Clovis. "Wasn't easy to get, boss."
"Of course it wouldn't have," he replied, peeking inside the paper bag. Inside were a few small paper rolls and loose tabacca. After confirming what was inside, Clovis stood from the bed, reaching for the Kathar's shoulder to guide him along with him. "You've been good to me."
The pair walked through the cell, toward the other end of the communal holding area. The ex-lawyer began talking. "You told me, earlier, that you wanted to get out of here?" In reply, the Kathar nodded, as Clovis began to reach into the paper bag, beginning to roll his first cig. "Truthfully. There's no exit. I've read your case before.. you really did a number."
"But," he continued, licking the end of the paper to use an adhesive, wrapping it around the tabacca inside. "Imprisonment is more a state of mind, I think."
The Kathar looked at him, perplexed. "You're just fucking with me now," he responded.
"Hardly!" Clovis exclaimed, though quietened down as a guard on the other side of the bars gave him a bad look. Fortunately that guard's vision wasn't the best, avoiding getting caught with an illegal substance. The ex-lawyer turned to another inmate. "Jerome. A match," he snapped. The inmate, Jerome, tossed him a small wooden pick.
"Explain yourself then, Clovis," the Kathar pressed.
Clovis struck the match against the nearby wall, using it to kindle his cig. Before answering, he took a long inhale of the tabacca. "Do I look oppressed to you? What you need is a re-jigging of attitude, Ivan."
He continued, in between intermittent smoke breaks. "I had everything I needed in Regalia. Money and a big house. I was raking it in, really. Pity it's gone. But that's beside the point. The point is, I was missing one thing that I now have. My tribe."
"Criminals are just the ones that get caught. People who get caught in the end; those are the most relatable people in the entirety of Aloria. I couldn't think of a better group of people to be embraced by, Ivan. Because none of us are going to scold each other about morals, or other tedious bullshit."
"See those guards over there?" Clovis said, vaguely gesturing to them with his cig-holding hand. "Those are my guards protecting me from the onslaught of Knights and Do-Gooders. The walls here. Those are the fortifications of my own Palace. And you? You're a member of my Noble Court. Along with Jerome, I guess." Jerome frowned in the corner.
"People like you and me. We need to start writing our own stories and deciding our own fates."
Clovis took a long drag from his cigarette. "And besides, you're stuck with me. So stop being a sourpuss, it's getting annoying."
