The Outsiders: Wanted

Chapter 18: Possession pt2

Continues from last chapter. But this is dally's p.o.v in jail, then it goes back to pony's

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Cold cement his floor, iron bars adorned his windows, tall metal gates laced with barbed wire atop were his fence - all his boundaries, his restrictions from the world. By far too familiar with each one; immune to the atmosphere to this cold place. His world limited and tight. Knowing how the system works and how to play it, he'd be out soon enough.

"Weren't you here just a few months ago, Winston?" an arrogant voice came from the body across the table in front of the blonde.

"I guess I just like it here." Dallas said with a glare and a cocky tone, looking up from his tray of food that he was served from the dinner line. His blue eyes finding the face of the arrogant, cocky bastard. "Mitch." the man's name coming out the blonde's mouth with great apathy. Being in and out of prison like a light switch, you tend to get to know the guards.

"Mitchell." he corrected the hood. "You must, seeing as how you do all this dumb shit just to get back in here." Mitchell said with a cocky smirk, placing his right foot on the chair closest to him, resting his forearm on his bent knee as he leaned forward, a smirk plastered to his lips.

"Don't you have to be watching the other inmates in the cafe, than terrorizing me, Mitch." Dallas said, leaning back in his chair coolly.

"I ain't the only guard in here, Winston." Mitchell said with a toothy grin at the blonde.

"That's a shame." Dallas muttered, not enjoying the company of the guard.

"What was that?" Mitchell asked, tapping on the table with his night stick.

"That's a shame." he repeated louder.

"A shame that I have enough time to bother you?" Mitchell asked.

"If that's how you take it." Dallas hissed lowly.

"How old are you Winston?" Mitchell asked.

"I'm not gonna tell you somethin' you already-"

"How old are you?" Mitchell said, cutting the hood off.

"Seventeen." Dallas said with a bit of edge. "And you're thirty-five," Dallas said smugly, knowing full well that Mitchell wasn't that old, just toying with him to get his real age.

"Twenty-eight." Mitchell corrected the blonde. "You think you know everything, don't you Winston?" Mitchell said. "You think you've seen and done it all, am I right Winston?" Mitchell said cockily. Dallas sneered at Mitchell, he hated the cocky, uptight attitude he portrayed. And knowing what type of background he had had, irked him beyond belief that he had authority over him. Mitchell came from an upper middle class family, getting most of everything he wanted with a few exceptions. Hanging around with the upper class rich kids, not bothering to ever even consider the lower class kids as anything more than garbage. Just another typical soc. Jumping greasers, being in rumbles, throwing beer blasts. One day society's disgrace, the next, it's hero, playing it all too well. A once rebellious teen, now a hero of great courage and discipline. Conversations like this one have been carrying on for the past two weeks since Dallas first got here; in every discussion they'd find out more about the other, both testing the other, seeing what made the other tick. For Mitchell, it was being called Mitch; Dallas had accidentally found out when he shortened it without even realizing, nearly getting chewed out by Mitchell when he continued to call him that even after he was corrected time and time again. For Dally, it was not being let out early, even if his behavior has been relatively good. He was going to get out of here, he needed to see Ponyboy again, he needed to apologize. And Mitchell wasn't going to stop him. He'd suck up to the guards as much he could bare and stay out of trouble as best he could.