He tears his eyes from the endless array of stars, the line of his mouth softening. (It helps that he focuses on Lucifer's face, rather than that fucking suit.) “Yeah, it's like that most days.”
Not tonight—he's giddy and calm at once, prepared for the wave to crash over him and itching to ride it out. He never thought he'd see another breach. It feels like an undeserved gift.
“It's hard to know with inmates. You can say something and they won't hear it, but months down the line maybe they'll remember.” Or the opposite: they'll remember you laughing something off, dismissing something that once seemed trivial but has gained significance.
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Not tonight—he's giddy and calm at once, prepared for the wave to crash over him and itching to ride it out. He never thought he'd see another breach. It feels like an undeserved gift.
“It's hard to know with inmates. You can say something and they won't hear it, but months down the line maybe they'll remember.” Or the opposite: they'll remember you laughing something off, dismissing something that once seemed trivial but has gained significance.