…And this is why in November I have to pay attention to new old shiny instead of old new shiny. Because apparently, this story hasn’t written itself:
Conner’s gaze never focused on the ceiling, eyes staring at something beyond the prison roof. He didn’t shift when the cement box echoed with the loud clang of metal.
“Hey, you.” The bark intertwined with the thunk of a boot striking steel.
Conner turned his head, silver hair sliding across the wool blanket, back never moving on the cot beneath him. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak.
“You’ve got a visitor. Get yer ass out of bed and shackle up.”
Steel gray eyes rolled toward the sky, glad they couldn’t see the sunlight outside. His hands pushed against the unyielding foam pad beneath him, orange jumpsuit scratching his skin, and he stood. White socks shuffled across the floor and he shoved his hands through the opening in the cell door. The metal of the handcuffs didn’t faze him, and he refused to make eye contact with the officer as he was led down the hall to a conference room.
He caught a flash of bulk when he was ushered into the room, and his shoulders rose and fell with his sigh. The chair creaked beneath his slight weight, and he didn’t meet his cousin’s eyes until he heard to door slam shut. Finally, grey eyes locked on blue. “What are you doing here?”
Herc’s expression remained neutral. “I could ask you the same thing. There’s no way you killed Kali. Let me get call in some favors, get you legal council, you’ll be out of here in 24 hours.”
“Not interested.” Conner stood. “If that’s why you’re here, you wasted your time.”
“So you’re going to just rot in jail?”
“For a little while at least. I was thinking ten or fifteen years, let my savings grow a bit, and then go back to what life was before.”
Herc hit the table with a thud, shaking the floor. “You weren’t living life before.”
Irritation pricked Conner’s senses. He had to end the conversation before his cousin could draw on the passion he worked so hard to bury. “And I liked it that way. Are we done?”
“No.”
“I just have to ask a guard and they’ll take me back to my cell. I’ll pick a fight with you if I have to. I don’t care if it lands me in solitary.”
“You care if it damages things and people in the process.” Herc’s expression never shifted.
“You care more. Call my bluff.”
“I’ve said my piece, I’m done.” The mountain of a man stood to leave.
“Guard!” Conner’s voice carried through the small box.
“Actaeon.” Herc’s tone remained even. “For once I’m asking you to think about yourself without taking the rest of the world into consideration. Be exactly what you claim to be.”
Conner didn’t answer, holding out his hands instead and allowing the guard to re-shackle him.