Falling for Crime

Chapter 4

Alfred learned within the first day to strongly dislike lunchtime.

Even when his stomach turned and begged for food, he strongly detested whatever the hell it was they served in the bustling bright-orange lines that occupied the cafeteria. There were only a couple of things that Alfred liked, and that was any fruit they served, when they did. That happened once in a long while, however, and the fruit was usually overripe or very small.

The American stole a glance at the line of guards as he shifted uncomfortably through the line, feeling his lips perk slightly when he saw Arthur. The officer hadn't seen him steal a glance, and Alfred preferred that.

The lunchroom was always super busy with prisoners of all kinds - from tall, tattooed - covered men with muscles that could kill you just by looking at them, to small, scared looking young men with frazzled hair and eye bags that indicate little to no sleep. Alfred noted that on the scale of body type, he was somewhere in the middle, not being too tall but definitely not the short kind, and his muscle build wasn't all too bad either.

Each prisoner was assigned a table. You could only speak to your small table of four, and if you tried to talk amongst other tables then you were sent to isolation for a starting minimum of two hours.

This was the Americans' first time in the lunchroom and, as he took in the bustling environment around him, he quickly jotted down and memorized every crevice of the room, from the cold grey brick walls to the double-doors across the room leading to their cells. He had to remind himself that this was prison, with real murderers and criminals, and that being here was no game. If he were to stay here, he had to survive. So, keeping his guard up at all times, he made his way to were General Bielschmidt told him he sat — table 10.

Jones was the last to arrive, somewhat cautiously approaching the occupied table of three. He made sure to check them out - one man had short greyish hair and soft violet eyes. His tag wore '11410'. Another had shortish brunette hair and, to alfred's amusement, a protruding curl from the left side. His tag read '11511'. The last one had medium length black hair, his tag reading '13031'.

He sat with much hesitation, noticing that none of them talked amongst each other. So following with the same pattern, Alfred sat silently, staring down and picking at his plate. Keep your guard up around prisoners. They could do anything.

Alfred noticed every tiny movement in his surroundings, from the next table overs' bustling to the brunette - haired boys uncomfortable shuffling and failed attempts to catch a gaze at the next table. Alfred trailed his gaze up to watch him, noting that he was extremely fidgety. The brunettes build wasn't all that much, either, and that curl bounced with every movement he made.

A small whine emitted from the boy, much like a dogs, and 13031 shifted his averted gaze over.

"Feli, if the guards catch you staring, they will think you're planning something."

A somewhat more desperate whine as the brunette turned back to look at the other. "I-I know, Hercules! B-but-" Another uncomfortable glance, "My big brothers over there. I'm worried."

"Worrying about anyone other than yourself is not important right now, Feli," The greyish-haired man spoke, thick russian accent embedded in that oddly eerie calming tone. "If you let your guard down, you could get hurt."

"I don't care about that!" The brunettes italian accent whined pitifully, "I want Big Brother to be okay."

"So who are you, silent one?" 13031 piped up after a beat of silence. Alfred shot his gaze up, noticing he was talking to him.

"Oh, uh, I'm new. To this prison," Alfred said with a sheepish, hiding smile, averting his gaze again. "I just got transferred under twenty four hours ago."