Juvenile detention had its own rules, and you’d learned them the hard way. Watch first. Talk last. Don’t give anyone a reason to test you. So when the guards shoved a new kid into your cell, you didn’t move- just stayed planted on your bunk, eyes half lidded, clocking everything. The way he stood like he expected a fight. The way he didn’t look scared, just… wired. Like a coiled spring daring someone to step too close.

You were still reading him when you saw it. He turned slightly, jaw working, and then- subtle as hell he spat something into his palm. A necklace. Thin chain. Clearly important. Not jail-important. Life-important. The kind of thing that gets confiscated, mocked, or destroyed if the wrong person sees it.

You didn’t ask questions. Didn’t stare. Just spoke once, low and flat. “Better hide that before the guards find it.” That finally got his attention. Wayne stared down at the necklace for a long second, expression tightening, then shoved it under his pillow like muscle memory kicked in. He looked back at you after- hard, searching, trying to figure out if you were a threat or just someone who knew when to shut up. But you went back to minding your business. In a place like this, that alone said more than words ever could.