ArchivedLogs:Dinner in the Clink

Dinner in the Clink
Dramatis Personae Anette and Dusk	2017-08-28 In which they complain about food and pass along apologies
Location Prison
It's dinnertime in the clink, one of the few times prisoners can actually move about and mingle with each other. And mingle they do, the general noise level kept at a steady dull roar. Periodically there's a ruckus, either passionate discussion or near riot but in either case, guards are quick to settle it back down by whatever means necessary. All in all though, it's relatively uneventful. Everyone knows their place, has their group, and knows the routine and etiquette. Anette's routine tends to be find the closest thing to an empty table. As that's incredibly rare, she usually needs to settle for the empty-ish table, preferably one with physical mutants. She avoids eye contact and is more or less left alone by the other inmates, either by her personality or her 'condition'. She waddles her way through, eyes carefully scanning the crowd for an ideal seat. She almost misses him, having to do a double take when she catches Dusk's face in the mix. She pauses, taking a few good seconds to contemplate. Eventually, she takes a deep breath and changes direction, heading towards Dusk. "Hey stranger," she says quietly when she's in earshot. She remains standing though, apparently waiting for an invitation to join him. Most other prisoners have been giving Dusk's nearly empty table a wide berth. It's so far quiet, in his corner, just a faint scritching where his talons scrape idly against the floor, a light tapping as his spoon clinks lightly against the side of his -- largely untouched -- tray. He isn't dressed particularly regulation -- khakis, yes, but no shirt; the guards seem more or less inclined to let him slide on this infraction. His enormous wings are painted in bold red and black, though the rest of him is too-skinny, too-pale, a dark scruff of beard shadowing his face. His eyes lift to Anette with a sharp swiftness when she draws near, fingers tightening on his spoon. For a moment longer he is silent, before his wings curl in tight against his back. He swallows -- swallows again. "Shit," he finally answers, kind of roughly. "You're here." "Where else would I be?" Anette says with a dark chuckle. She remains standing, still holding her tray. Not terribly full but enough. Unlike Dusk she is wearing a shirt, though it's awfully baggy to make room for her stomach. They've also seemed to allow her to make some rough modifications to the back to allow her wings to breathe, though the remain pressed tightly to her back. She glances over Dusk, taking in his own condition. Besides being pregnant, Anette doesn't look so great herself, a smidge pale, dark circles under her eyes, hair messier than normal. "What they get you for?" "Total bullshit." Dusk shakes his head -- slumps forward, dropping his forehead into a palm. "Shit." Again, quieter this time. "This sucks." His fingers curl tightly into his hair, wings quivering faintly where they press to his back. "They actually taking care of you? You seen a doctor at all?" "Usually is," Anette murmurs. Apparently she takes Dusk's lack of response as an invitation and (less than gracefully) sits down to join him. "Course not. It's been mentioned once or twice but hasn't happened yet. Probably not going to see a doctor until I'm in labor." She looks over Dusk again, frowning gently with concern. "Have you been...eating?" she asks quietly. A low growl rumbles -- softly, muted -- in Dusk's chest as Anette sits. His dark eyes track her, the upper talons on his wings twitching. The growl doesn't fade as he swallows; nor as his eyes drop to his platter, fangs flashing in a thin smile before he speaks: "They bring me food every day." He nudges /his/ plate toward Anette. "Don't imagine they're feeding you enough for two?" "There's one girl who occasionally sneaks me an extra dinner roll. Otherwise no." Anette stirs the...well, it was labelled beef stroganoff, on her tray but doesn't eat it yet. "You know that's not what I'm talking about though." "I know." Whether Dusk intends it or not, it sounds a little harsher, the rough growl underlying his words rumbling louder. "Take it." Pushing his tray more solidly across the table. Lower: "Ion brought Steve by last night. But no. Otherwise I've been just about fit to eat everyone's damn face here." Anette pulls the offered tray closer to her with an appreciative smile and finally takes a bit of the 'stroganoff'. As Dusk mentions Ion, she visible cringes but otherwise nods along. "That's good. I mean, that you got anything at all. I'd offer but..." She trails off, snooping a bit around Dusk's tray before opening the carton of milk. "Ion's a good guy." Dusk tenses at the not-offer, a soft whine joining his quiet growl when Anette trails off. His jaw tightens, eyes fixing firmly down on his hands -- which are joining tightly together on the table in front of him. "He's a good guy." Quiet here, too. He chances a small glance back up at Anette, brows creasing. "It's gonna be any day now for you, huh?" Anette takes a few sips of milk, setting the carton down and licking her lips. "Today," she says, incredibly casually considering. "At least, that's what the doctor I was seeing before said." She begins to scoop another bite to eat but pauses before she even lifts it off the tray. She appears to be lost in thought a moment before continuing. "If you get out before I do...can you just tell Ion I'm sorry?" "Fff." The breath Dusk pushes out is hard, sharp between his teeth and his lower lip. "{Christ, what a mess.} I hope..." But whatever well-wishes he might have intended die unsaid. He nods, heavily. "I'll tell him. Shit, sister. {I'm sorry, too.}" "Thanks," Anette says softly, finally moving that spoonful to her mouth. Though the corner of her mouth does turn up in a bit of a half smile. "What do you have to be sorry for? It was my own dumbass self that got me locked in here." Dusk chuffs out a small puff of a laugh, quick and soft. "Fair enough. But there's nothing in this world we ever really do /alone/." Quieter still: "Anyway, whatever bullshit got you in. You got family to see you out, again." "As much as I'd love to place the blame on someone else, this is on me. Maybe the cop, too." Anette's smile falters a bit at Dusk's last statement and she speaks again, this time quieter. "Hopefully. Managed to piss Ion off. Didn't even think that was possible. I'm half expecting to stay in here and rot. At this point I don't think I'd even mind. I just want Harley out.” "Yeah. I was out then. He had some feelings, when he came back." Dusk winces, in time with a more pronounced growl. "Harley, huh?" One side of his mouth twitches up, his eyes darting to Anette's belly. "It's a good name. Any luck, we can help 'em grow into it."