Cell 109 was loud.
Not the bad kind of loud. The celebrating kind — which was almost worse, honestly.
All three of them were trying on their new dark blue uniforms at the same time, bumping into each other, holding the fabric up, talking over each other with the energy of men who had just won something and needed everyone within a hundred metres to know about it.
Bandaged Arm was the worst of the three.
He had his new uniform on already and kept looking down at it like it might disappear if he stopped checking. He was grinning. Actually grinning, doing a small unnecessary spin near the centre of the cell.
The gate creaked open and immediately, all three of them stopped.
They watched Ruaan walk in.
He didn't look at them or slow down. He went straight to his bed, lay down on his back, and stared at the ceiling.
Silence.
They looked at his face. The bruising. The dried blood under his nose. A cut near his jaw.
That was it.
They looked at each other.
