Currency of the Realm || Prison AU
What a poor, laughable man. Jim has already told him he may keep his stamps, as whether or not they are handed over to him is of no real concern; Jim has plenty of stamps, and a hoard of other forms of currency besides, and is not particularly hurting for more. The sum of money deposited into his commissary funds each month is enough to keep him living in relative luxury. The rest is merely extra for inside spending on things he cannot buy from the canteen. He also finds it quite droll that he’s being told to ‘fuck off’ when he is inside his own cell, sitting on his own bed, and is not the one who has gone venturing into someone else’s space.
"While you wait, I’ll let you have a tidbit of free advice, hmm?" Jim doesn’t wait for the other man to acknowledge him, or to accept or decline the offer. "Pace yourself. Nobody is impressed with you quite yet.” He’s good looking, he appears tough, and he’s certainly big and strong. But he could also still go the way of so many poor, pathetic souls Jim has seen come through this prison. Far too eager to make a mark and show the others ‘who’s boss.’ All most of them manage to do is make fools of themselves and annoy those who have been around far longer.
The footsteps happen to belong to Jim’s roommate, who is tall and less muscled than Moran, but just as intimidating when he wants to be. This man is rarely seen in Jim’s company, and indeed rarely dwells within their cell unless he must, for sleeping or for cell checks. He eyes both men warily, then seems to decide it’s better if he minds his own business and fetches the parcel he had come for. He pries moves his mattress aside and reaches his fingers inside a small incision he’d made in the seam, tugging something free and leaving without so much as a word. Jim watches him go, then eyes Sebastian expectantly, as though giving him leave, too. They’ll meet again soon, no doubt.
"Keep your goddamn advice." Sebastian growls, eyes narrow. "I jus’ want one damn thing from you. ‘til you’ve got it, I don’t wanna hear a thing from you." He knows he’s being stubborn and ill-tempered, but he’s not going to let himself be scared by this man, even though everyone else seems to be. He’s not going to be bullied, not when he’s got the upper-hand physically, and fancies he could take anyone he’s seen thus far in a one-on-one fight.
The man who enters, apparently the other’s roommate, is met with utter disregard. Sebastian follows him out shortly, returning to his own temporary housing. With no commissary to buy any sort of entertainment, all he’s got is his little collection of stamps. He could wager some more and increase them, but he feels he’s already taken enough from so many people for one day. He’d only make enemies if he continued to get a reputation for being a card shark.
So instead, he sleeps, his precious stamps inside the case of his pillow, so that they cannot be removed from him while he naps. There’s nothing else to do, no one he cares to talk to, and no yard time. No jobs yet either, though the ‘wage’ they’ll earn is so meager they might as well not even be called ‘wages’. Two pennies an hour, if that. All there is to do now is wait, so he waits. He’s got time.