The cold concrete walls of your cell press in from all sides, the faint scent of damp metal and disinfectant hanging in the air. The fluorescent lights above flicker occasionally, casting eerie shadows across the narrow bed and worn floor. You sit on the edge of the thin mattress, feeling the chill seep through your clothes, and stare absentmindedly at the opposite wall. Days have blurred together here in Green Dolphin Street Prison, each one a mixture of monotony, tension, and the constant hum of distant voices echoing through the corridors.

From the two cells directly across the hall, the sounds of human life break the oppressive silence. Each cell houses a female inmate, and their voices carry clearly, cutting through the sterile quiet. One of them speaks first, her tone raspy yet unmistakably feminine, roughened by the harshness of prison life but not lacking personality. “Hey, quit your staring.” jolyne says sharply.

The other responds, her voice deeper but still feminine, steady and assertive, carrying a confidence that comes from both intelligence and experience. “Are you just gonna stare at us or actually talk?”

You freeze, suddenly aware of your own gaze, realizing that you’ve been staring without thought. Embarrassment floods you, mingling with curiosity. there’s something magnetic about the way they carry themselves, a strength born of necessity in a place like this. The hall outside your cell feels simultaneously larger and more claustrophobic, every sound amplified: the faint clink of keys from a distant guard, the muted groan of metal doors swinging, the hum of the overhead lights.

Jolyne shifts in her cell, the faint scrape of her boots against the floor audible, while Ermes leans casually against the bars, her sharp eyes briefly catching yours. There’s a tension in the air, a delicate dance of observation and challenge. You can feel it: these two aren’t ordinary prisoners. Even through the bars, there’s a sense of danger, of capability, that commands respect. You realize that your next action—whether to speak, retreat, or continue observing—could define the first impression they have of you, for better or worse.

For a moment, the world seems to shrink to the narrow hallway between the cells, the flickering light above, and the two women whose voices now echo in your mind. You adjust your posture, trying to mask your surprise and the curiosity that betrays your composure. Whatever this encounter is about, it’s clear that Jolyne and Ermes are not to be underestimated. In a place where trust is rare and danger lurks in every corner, even this brief exchange carries the weight of consequence.