【 𝐩𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬. 】〖 𝚂𝙻𝙾𝚆 𝚄𝙿𝙳𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚂. 〗
❝𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵.❞
In which she helps her best friend break his innocent brother out of prison.
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PHOEBE SAT SILENTLY BESIDES MICHAEL in the penitentiary's church, sitting a few inches away from him as Lincoln sat in the bench in front of them with his back facing the partners in crime (literally).
"What the hell are you thinking, Michael? How we doin'?" Lincoln asked quietly, turning his head back ever so slightly so only the duo could hear him. Michael leaned forward.
"The infirmary." Michael informed. Phoebe remained silent as she stared at the back of Lincoln's head, waiting for a reaction from him which took a couple of seconds before Lincoln spoke again.
"The infirmary?" Lincoln asked, wondering to himself if that would really be the best option for escape, but he knew that his brother and friend had spent months planning this out. Hell, he'd even seen all the tattoos they'd gotten just so they could be extra safe with their plan. He trusted them. They were, after all, much more intelligent than him.
"It's the weakest link in the security chain." Michael explained. "As long as I get that pugnac, I'll get all the access I need." Michael said with a small smirk.
"The hell's a pugnac?" Lincoln asked in confusion. Phoebe smiled, leaning forwards to speak on the other side of Lincoln.
"It'll lower Michael's insulin levels." Phoebe explained. "It'll lower it to the point where he becomes hyperglycemic and good ol' miss Dr Tancredi will believe he's diabetic."
"And then I'll have plenty of time to do what I need to do." Michael continued. Lincoln furrowed his brows.
"Which is...?" Lincoln questioned.
"Just a little work. A few baby steps in the plan." Phoebe said. Michael nodded.
"A little prep for your arrival." Michael continued. "That's the idea, anyway." He said.
"The idea?" Lincoln asked, almost as if he was too confused by the whole plan they'd thought out and by all the little bits of information they were giving him that he didn't even understand.
"There's a little hitch in getting the pugnac, that's all." Michael said, staring at Lincoln's shoulder in deep thought. "They don't exactly stock it at the commissary."
"You're telling me this whole thing is riding on a bunch of pills?" Lincoln asked in disbelief.
"Someone's working on it as we speak." Michael said, turning back around to face Phoebe with a knowing look and smirk before turning to look behind Phoebe at a dark skinned man known as C-Note. Michael had been able to convince the man to get the pugnac for him. Phoebe had offered to be the one to talk to him and get the pugnac, but Michael was skeptical about letting her get too close to the other inmates, considering lots of them were probably in prison for horrible crimes, most likely against women. He didn't want any harm to come to his best friend.
