【 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 WAS SITTING on the bottom bunk in their cell, leaning against the thick metal poles at the foot of said bunk as Michael sat across from her, his back facing the toilet in the corner of the cell. Michael held a small mirror below his left arm, looking down at the reflection of his tattoos, names, and writing down the words on a piece of paper. Phoebe was startled as Sucre suddenly jumped off the top bunk, singing in Spanish to himself, and walking over to the toilet as he began to pee. Phoebe scrunched her nose and turned around uncomfortably. She would never get used to this.
"God, we really need some curtains or something around that toilet." Phoebe seethed distastefully. Michael chuckled.
"I really don't know why they didn't just, like, put you in a cell by yourself." Sucre commented, continuing to use the toilet. Damn he takes long, Phoebe thought to herself.
"Well, if I can't get my own cell, we might as well add some curtains for privacy. I don't know about you two, but I'd feel much more comfortable if we at the very least had curtains." Phoebe said, crossing her arms as she looked out of the cell, unaware of the way Michael's eyes were staring at her. Michael chuckled.
"We'll hang up some sheets or something." Michael promised. Phoebe smiled to herself. Michael smiled at the sight of her smile.
"Hm." Sucre suddenly said, tilting his head as he zipped up his pants and examined the toilet.
"What?" Michael asked, writing down some numbers on the slip of paper he had in his hands.
"Toilet won't flush." Sucre said. Phoebe's smile fell, recalling an important piece of information she'd read about the penitentiary when they were still planning the escape.
"So?" Michael asked. Phoebe finally turned fully in her spot to look at Michael.
"Michael, they shut the water off so the toilets don't flush so inmates can't flush their contraband when they're getting searched by guards." Phoebe informed him, hearing the buzzing of cell doors opening all around the cell block. Sucre's eyes widened.
"Means only one thing, fish." Sucre said, rushing to the cell door and peeking out as a guard came into view.
"Shakedown!" The guard shouted. Immediately, all hell broke loose. Inmates began to toss item after item, papers and small drug bags and shanks, out of their cells, soon littering the entire cell block floor. "All contraband will be confiscated!"
"Well, we got nothing to worry about." Michael said nonchalantly, watching Sucre lift the mattress on the top bunk. Phoebe cocked a brow.
