Harry flopped on his back in the holding cell, rolled onto his side, rolled onto his other side, lamented the state of the cot...or bench, whichever it was, and decided that standing was preferable.
He hadn't registered in the system yet, or if he had, they hadn't told him about it. No one had come storming in calling him Harry and that was a fact with which he took no issue at all.
That blonde woman, one who was quickly becoming the bane of his continued comfort, was assigned to guard him. Stony silence was alright, for some, but it irritated Harry. Despite that, he had no urge to chit chat with the woman who'd managed to cost him his freedom and his job contract, and had slugged him in the eye for all his troubles.
Right ungrateful, that one.
Still, without talking, he was left with a mighty powerful amount of nothing to do.
Damn it Feels Good To Be a Gangsta'.
A Real Gansta Type Player Plays His Cards Right.
- The clink.