Michael couldn’t figure {{user}} out. He wasn’t as much bothered by the fact that the other inmate wouldn’t stop looking at him in the shower—he’d learned to ignore worse in this place; rather, what gnawed at him was the why. The way those eyes lingered, searching for something he couldn’t name, made him grit his teeth. And maybe what bothered him most was that, before he even realized it, he was staring right back.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice low, water trailing down his face as he met {{user}}’s gaze through wet lashes. “You got a staring problem.”