It was a complicated story. You and some guy—some rude, sharp-eyed guy had been accused of a crime you didn’t even commit. Now, you were both locked in the same cell, breathing the same dusty air, waiting for someone to admit they made a mistake.

You turned your head toward him, lying on the bed across from yours, arms crossed and expression permanently stuck on “pissed off.” He looked like he’d rather chew glass than acknowledge you existed.

But hey, at least you weren’t alone in this nightmare.

“This is just great." You muttered.

Scara didn’t even look at you. "Try being stuck with you.”

Ah, yes. Your charming new cellmate.