Across the corridor from Cell Two.

[Sam]

A single cell, owned by Jon Walker. Across the hall from Quinn Allman and Sonny Moore.

[Close enough for conversation.]

[Sam]

Quinn: Lifting his head slowly, he hears a guard calling out to him to wake the fuck up. Resisting the urge to flip him off, he just calls out a groggy, "Yeah", and lays his head back down once said guard disappears down the hall. Lying on his stomach, tangled in his sheets, and feeling incredibly lazy, Quinn has no motivation to get up at all. He just shuts his eyes, hoping for a few more minutes of rest before the guards come back to pester him again.

[Amber]

Jon: Jon Walker had long ago stopped being so much as phased by the early wake-up call. It seemed, almost, that the only way to get him up was to bang one's hand against the lock to the door of his cell. So hard, that this particular morning the guard set up for the task walked away in a near fit.
Jon's eyes lazily flutter open as the heavy clanking becomes too much for him to bear; and he waves up a heavy hand to signal the guard he's indeed awake, and would probably be up in a matter of minutes. He usually did rouse himself from bed soon after awakening, otherwise his body would smite him with cramps.

"Ugh." He mutters, craning his body up with his arms, just high enough to catch a glimpse of the younger blonde across from himself, in near the same typical situation.

[Sam]

Quinn: He only begins to relax as the awful clanging of steel on steel stops. A guard must've finally gotten Jon to wake up. Groaning a little, he stretches himself out on the bed, but doesn't open his eyes or even look up. He longs to be at home, in his own bed, or better, at his boyfriend's apartment and in his bed.

[Amber]

Jon: Still with no motivation and no real wish to change his object of viewing, Jon keeps his eyes straight over at Quinn.
He was one of the few people with any luck or remote joy in his life, with himself and his apparent boyfriend sharing the same sentence in the same prison wing. 'Oh yeah, this place must be Hell for him.' Jon thinks in sarcasm and sneers, almost disgusted with envy.
'The only upside to being such a fag, I guess.'

[Sam]

Quinn: Feeling someone looking at him, he looks up and locks eyes with Jon.
"'Morning." He says, a little too cheerfully, just to see what his reaction will be. Quinn rolls onto his back, further entangling himself in the sheets, but somehow not caring. Looking up at the ceiling for a moment, he looks at Jon, with his head upside down. Smiling, he can only imagine how stupid he must look.

[Amber]

Jon: Arching his right eyebrow, Jon waves at Quinn slowly and awkwardly for sheer effect, just before mouthing an "O-kay then."
The older man smiled toothily, repressing a genuine laugh.

"Having fun?" Jon questioned rhetorically; before standing to stretch his back and limbs.
He could only hope his slightly pigmented skin still held enough color to hide a blush. Not a blush out of infatuation, but simply out of the lingering embarrassment of being around anything that reminded him of a pre-pubescent boy.

[Sam]

Quinn: Rolling back onto his stomach, he looks over at the older inamte and grins.
"Yeah, I kinda was. Feels good to just stretch sometimes." The blonde says simply, bending his legs at the knees and moving them back and forth absently. He's watching Jon as he stretches and attempts to wake himself up. Quinn thinks this always proves to be entertaining.

[Erin]

Sonny: He awakes to see his cell mate stretch and notices it must be morning. Already. It seems like only 2 minutes ago Sonny was craving that magical rush that makes his body feel so ready. Heroin. Last night was Hell. H.E.L.L. And Sonny never felt his craving so high before.

"Morning, morning." He chirps, removing the tattered, dirty sheet from himself and standing as well. He notices Jon from the corner of his eye and throws himself toward the prison bars, looking towards the older man.

"Morning, Jon."

Though Sonny had only known Jon for a few days, or the small time Sonny had been captive, he still felt a sudden friendship with him.

He was always too trusting.

[Amber]

Jon: Jon found himself almost hysterical with how many guys clung to him, and it never failed with each day. "Morning, Sonny." He nods to the cripplingly young looking boy, and gives him a half-smile fit for any stranger.
Jon snorts a laugh when he looks back over to Quinn, and sits himself back down on his poorly-fit bed. "You'd think this sort of thing would get boring after a while, 'Good morning!'." he says to the both of them, and massages his left should briefly before rolling his neck, merely to hear the loud pops.

[Erin]

Sonny: His once huge smile fades a little. Plopping himself back onto the bed and lying on his back, he stares up at the ceiling.

"...Did you have a good night? Any springs sticking in your back? Because they did to me." He laughs a little, stealing a small glance at Quinn. He notices the blonde isn't smiling or even looking back at him and decides to just stay quiet.

True, Sonny didn't have a clue about prison. About the shower rooms which he'd HATE. About the food, which he'd HATE. About anything. And asking a simple question like, "Any springs sticking out of your bed last night," would probably get the answer of, "Deal with it."