Darcy slid down to the floor. Why was this happening to her? She needed to do something to one: gain some type of status in this... place so she didn't get smooshed, and two: figure out if there was SOMETHING she was good at that wouldn't reward her with angry glares from her new neighbors.

Rusty glanced over at Darcy before getting a bad idea that his brain immediately squashed and, of course, ignoring the sane part of him and walking over. "As you formerly said, its not *fair* that I knew what you had been put in here for, so I'm bringing that over to names. Since I know yours, it's only fair you know mine. Alastair Brax, at your service, but no one calls me that because it's a weird name. Everyone knows me as Rusty." He said quietly, partially joking with a faint smile.

Darcy looked up in slight panic mode as the guard she had talked to the day before walked up to her. "Oh. Well... hello Rusty. And you already know my name. " she smiled back, although it was less than half hearted and showed how tired she was, even though it was an upgrade from the day before. She did know how she even got the thought of driving when she could barely see straight. "Shut it. People are trying to sleep. " Martha's voice rang out and a few other prisoners looked up, some coming to the doors. Darcy gritted her teeth. "Maybe you shouldn't sleep in so much" she snapped, her eyes widening when she realized what she said. Martha's knuckles popped. "What did you say!" The woman stood from her cot and martched over. "Shoot..." Darcy didn't even cuss, but times like these made her want too.

Rusty nodded slightly, also looking quite drained as he glanced at the world around him. He was still more alert than most, even when tired, running on little food and almost no sleep. It wasn't like he had fat reserves to steal from if he got hungry. His stomach would literally start eating itself. Never fun. Rusty's head snapped around as Martha spoke, and he was honestly proud of what Darcy said. "Breakfast is in 5 minutes, if you wanted more sleep you should've went to bed earlier." He huffed, irritated, as he stepped in front of the woman. "This is a prison not a 5 star hotel. Stop acting like you own the place." He spat, his words sharp so that he wouldn't have to do more.

Darcy watched Rusty. She didn't know why he had been nice to her before. Was it because they had a little bit in common? She leaned against the wall. "Is breakfast that same stuff from yesterday ?" She asked when the buzzer rang. She held out her hands. She would never do anything to hurt anyone, but she knew they had to handcuff her for safety reasons.

Rusty offered a final narrow eyed glare to Martha as a warning, then retreated back to his usual place to wait for the buzzer. At Darcy's question he shook his head. "The glop tastes a tiny bit different for breakfast. Better, 6 you ask me. Once I figured out it only looked horrible and the texture was disgusting but the taste was bearable, I learned to just focus on the taste." He answered, tilting his head at the buzzer and sighing. He'd almost rather be a prisoner at this point, but as a guard he was earning tiny bits of money for every single thing he did. When he got out of this place, after 30 years of owning tiny bits of money, maybe he could buy a cabin in the woods to live out the rest of his short days. He'd be 50+ by then so it wasn't like he'd get to do anything else. No good job would accept him at that time. He sure wouldn't get a wife at that age, haha, funny. He wouldn't know anybody. The outside world would've changed considerably. Nothing would be the same. He pushed those thoughts away and turned to Darcy, clipping the handcuffs on loosely, guessing even if she did get out she wasn't one to do anything and even if she did do something she couldn't really hurt anybody. She was like a stick. He then clipped hand cuffs on Martha and the other woman, then they were off to breakfast.

Darcy allowed herself to be taken away. She sat down at the table with her food and about gagged at the texture. +taste. Focus on the taste+ she grimaced before scarfing down the remainder of the glop and putting away the tray. She put her head in her hands. "When will this nightmare end..?" She whispered to herself. No one heard, thank goodness, but she wished someone could reassure her that it would eventually end.

Rusty got his own food, standing as he ate the same gloop as all the prisoners. He didn't even know if it could be considered food. He finished with a grimace and dumped the paper plate in the garbage, resuming his shift, watching everyone.

Darcy ran a hand down her arm. She could picture her dad sitting on the couch, watching the Tv when she got arrested. He probably wouldn't even remember it. He was probably drunk again, draped over the arm of his chair or on the floor, snoring like a freight train. What if he had tried to call her? Find out where she was? What if he was sober and had decided he needed to actually see her. Care for her for once. She shook her head and gritted her teeth. He could never take care of her. She was a grown woman still locked in her house. Or atleast was...

As Rusty glanced across the room, he noticed the same guy who had made trouble before staring at him. Never a good sign. A couple seconds later that guy and 4 more got up, walking over. Rusty knew that none of the other guards would help unless it was a life or death crisis- and they might not even help then. All the guards hated him because they thought he was supposed to be a prisoner. The guy came right up in his face.

"Alastair Brax, you know as well as us you are supposed to be in the same cells we are." The man hissed. "You can't just PRETEND to protect who you deem fit." The man snorted angrily, jerking his head. One of the men broke off and grabbed Darcy's arm.

"Let go of her." Rusty snarled, lunging forward and hauling the guy off. The other four launched towards him, but he managed to get them all away from Darcy, his face twisted with irritation and concentration. "You five know I'm not an idiot. Stop treating me like one!" He snapped.