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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Forged Fury" data-source="post: 6505589" data-attributes="member: 95059">Accepting the proffered hand, Cyril tried and failed to match the man's grip. Shrugging, he smiled and replied, "Cyril F. Kennedy, Esquire, at your service... contractually, in fact. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Marks."Grabbing his box, the former lawyer made a bee-line towards one of the offices. One of the blessings of prison was the fact that inmates were contained in cells. Really, the only time things went wrong was when the GenPop was free to roam about, that's why most of the shanking happened in the showers, during meals, or in the rec yard. He wasn't about to trust any of these people enough to sleep in an area without walls.Finding an office to his satisfaction, Cyril made his way back to the main room and secured a cot, dragging it back to the office and setting it down. He'd worry about getting it situated later. Wonder how much a cheap air mattress would go for...Slipping out of his dark blue prison coveralls, he picked out the most professional clothing options he had, settling on a pair of khaki pants and a long-sleeve white button down shirt. Cyril frowned when he realized they hadn't provided him with any appropriate shoes. Glancing back and forth between the tennis shoes and work boots, he briefly considered his shower flip-flops for a hipster laissez-faire approach to the mission. Eventually, he settled on the work boots and laced them up.Cyril searched the room for a reasonable place to hide his copy of the deal paperwork. For the time being, he settled for slipping it under an old church directory that was still in the desk drawer. Flipping through it, he spotted a few attractive female parishioners and made a mental note of the pages for when he got some time off and alone.Without a watch, Cyril really wasn't sure how he was supposed to keep track of the time. As such, he was unsurprisingly late by a minute or two. "So, are we ready?"</blockquote>

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