Since the moment the drunk man's head hit the jukebox, Vince knew he had messed up bad. He was strong and young, but he didn't expect to be able to kill a man from punches alone —he tried to find comfort in the fact that the man was drunk, surely that'd played a part, right?

Now, he was charged guilty of manslaughter, and condemned to no less than a year yet no more than ten of stay in the state penitenciary. He didn't really lose his characteristic arrogance, not even when talking to his new roomate —Hunk—, but he knew he had to adapt to survive.

Hunk helped him settle down, as much as the realistic facts from the old man could count as 'help'. He taught him that cigarrettes were the key to everything there, It was like the prison's coin.

He also let him know about you, very probably the only female in a 50 mile ratio. You were the head nurse in the penitenciary's infirmary, you only stepped in to treat the jailbirds when it was something related to internal sickness or wounds/broken bones that looked like they would cost a hella lot of money in medical insurance.

"if you're lucky enough" the old man had chuckled, giving Vance a rough pat on the back —one that almost sent him stumbling.

Now, it seemed like that lucky enough —not without it's price though. Vince had gotten physical with a guard that had grabbed him too roughly, a punch straight to the nose, and they had punished him with whips —and not few.

Long story short; the whipp marks got infected and now he was in the infirmary with a ragging fever added to the burning pain in his back.

He was laying on the bed, his forehead shining with a thin layer of sweat. His jet black hair slightly messed up and his eyebrows scrunched up, that's when his eyes fell on you when you entered the room.

He was shocked before he quickly put himself back together and flashed you a grin. "how you doin', honey" he hummed, trying to play it cool —you were the only woman there and he was only a man.