【 𝐩𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬. 】〖 𝚂𝙻𝙾𝚆 𝚄𝙿𝙳𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚂. 〗
❝𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵.❞
In which Phoebe helps her best friend break his innocent brother out of prison.
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"WAIT, WAIT, WAIT. YOU... LOST IT?" Phoebe asked in slight confusion, arms crossed as she plopped down onto the bottom bunk in their cell. The cells were all opened, the inmates wandered as freely as they could throughout the cell block, having just come inside from the courtyard. Michael had explained to Phoebe that during her shower that day, while he was alone in the courtyard, he'd managed to get the bolt from the bleachers free, only for T-Bag to take it from him. Michael had asked Abruzzi for help shaking down the inmate, but he'd declined upon Michael's lack of information on the whereabouts of the man he was looking for; Fibonacci.
"I didn't lose it, T-Bag took it." Michael said, his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall and sighed. They watched as a few inmates paced back and forth across the bridge right outside their cell. Phoebe sighed.
"Well, what if we search his cell while he's out?" Phoebe suggested. "We can search it as soon as he leaves. It's not like there's many hiding places in a cell." She pointed out. Michael thought about it for a second before nodding.
"Okay. I'll search it." He said, pushing himself off the wall. Phoebe pushed herself off the bunk and nodded.
"I'll help you." She said. Michael paused and quickly turned to face her, making Phoebe freeze in her spot.
"It's best you stay here." He said. Phoebe crossed her arms and shook her head.
"We're in this together, Michael J. Scofield, and I am going to help you whether you like it or not." Phoebe said with finality in her tone. Michael smiled and cocked an eyebrow as he chuckled and shook his head.
"Did you really need to add the J?" Michael asked. Phoebe shrugged.
"Didn't feel like saying your full name, but if that catches your attention better, I'll say it, Michael Ja—"
"I get it, I get it." Michael interrupted with a laugh, putting a hand on her head and ruffling her hair. Phoebe slapped his hand away, running a hand through her hair.
"Dude," She whined, fixing her hair. Michael stifled a laugh.
"Did you just call me 'dude'?" Michael asked, seeing as Phoebe never really called him that. Phoebe crossed her arms and gave him a look as if saying, yeah, so? Michael rolled his eyes playfully and waved her over. "Come on." He said, suddenly becoming serious as he stalked out of their cell with Phoebe hot on his heels. They went down the stairs and paced around as they watched T-Bag like hawks as he ascended up the stairs and towards a cell at the edge of the cell block.
"Yo, curly! Come on, Maytag!" T-Bag shouted, catching the attention of the lost puppy inmate, who was walking around alone. The puppy turned swiftly and jogged up the stairs, rushing to his master's side. Phoebe and Michael gave each other a glance and a nod as they wasted no time in rushing over to T-Bag's cell. Michael rushed inside and began his speedy search, with Phoebe right outside keeping watch.
