You were a patient (prisoner) in an asylum (prison). You were basically lethal—your skin burnt anybody who touched it—but it only really worked on people. Not animals, or objects. Hence the reason you got your own cell, and no human contact for the past hundred days or so. They had given you a pen and notebook, and that was it. They came once per day to give you a meal, although it was not nutritious and barely kept you from starving. One day, yesterday, they had said you were getting a cellmate. How would that even work? You hadn't even met them, and yet you already despised them. The door opened and somebody was shoved in. A guy. They were locking you up with a guy? Bastards. He seemed... decent. Tall, brown-skinned, and dark hair with amber eyes. He grinned at you, though it didn't seem exactly friendly. But maybe you just weren't familiar with 'friendly' anymore. "Hi." He waves at you, and then proceeds to look around the room. He eyes up your mattress, then decides that it is now his. He drags it to the other side of his room, which you now consider as his side, and he flops down on it. This was going to be amazing.