Marie
Making starter now...

```Half past noon, 12th March 2022; Cafeteria, Newton's Cradle, Isekstad, Sweden.```

These past two weeks were eventful. Just joking, it was extremely eventful: She had been arrested by the Italian police for transporting cocaine, sat in a holding cell for a few days, developed superpowers, was sentenced in a special, unmentioned judicial court, shipped off to Sweden, and now found herself in Newton's cradle, probably a good two thousand and four hundred kilometres away from home. She was now a Delinquent Juvenile, serving time for crimes she had committed in plain daylight.

But so far, she wasn't treated as such. She had her own room and allowed to keep her own things. She was provided with a bed, a desk, and stuff that she wanted or found that she needed. She didn't have a prisoner's uniform; she was allowed to wear any outfit she pleased and the standard wearable item all the others had was only a simple ID card protected by a plastic case and a lanyard attached and wrapped around it.

There was a concerning lack of prison guards or policemen: there were some, but they seemed like their job was to keep outsiders out, not prisoners in. She had a mostly free internet and was allowed to keep in touch with her parents. She had freedom, and she was slightly suspicious of it.

Even the cafeteria wasn't styled like a prison; it had large windows, natural sunlight coming in and giving her a good view of the outside amenities, the beautiful sky, and the boundary-defining concrete wall. The food was good too, she was allowed to pick what food she wanted, and however much of it she wanted so long as she never left leftovers behind.

Huh, interesting. She could only wonder what this Swedish 'prison' wanted from a drug-running Italian delinquent who had rubber limbs.
Andrea
◇ Cafeteria. Food. Cafeteria. Food.

□ A near endless cycle in the *Juvenile delinquent stuck at Newton's Cradle* Life, Silas had grown accustomed to it over the past two weeks. *Or was it three?* He'd let time slip him by after the first couple of days, once his modest and admittedly outdated gaming rig was in place and the fish in his tank were comfortably in their new home. It had been two weeks of a relative cycle: awaken, stretch, hop on Call of Duty, sacrifice his soul for rank, then go grab something to eat, and it'd all happen before twelve noon.

▪︎ What a fuckin' life.

□ Strolling through the tall doors of the Cafeteria, he wondered if they were really tall, or if he was just short. Five five – five squared, as a bully had called him in secondary school – was diminutive for a born male, and maybe the doors *Were* Just normal-sized in comparison. Attempting to shake the doubts out, he jammed his hands into the pockets of his vintage-spec hibiscus corduroy trousers, golden-white paisley button-up unbuttoned for the top two as if he were a rock star of yore. Standing in line for just a few moments, he got his slop, took a seat, and sighed.

• *"Y'know..."* He grumbled in his head. *"I guess this is how they remind us we're in prison."*
Marie
"I mean..." She idly replied, most of her attention still towards the mediocre but acceptable food in front of her, a loving gift from God who refused to abandon her for a reason unknown to her. Still, to think that she was getting three free meals a day for zero cost? Sweet. "This *Is* A prison, dude. I'm more surprised at the freedom there is for... You know, delinquents." She finished, putting another bite of food into her mouth and setting aside the few strands of hair on her right eye aside with one finger.

"Wha are you here for anyway?" She questioned, looking slightly down at the other guy due to her slightly taller stature (while sitting, at least), curious as to what kind of crimes people got stuck in here for. The variety of its residents added to her suspicion; there weren't a good amount of Swedes inside the prison for a Swedish facility. "You and I are in a juvenile detention centre, after all."

As she took another bite of the food, consisting of a serving of swedish meatballs paired with vegerables and mashed potatoes, an opened, 3/4ths full bottle of room-temperature water by its side, she took a look outside and admired the admittsdly beautiful view.

Was this even a prison?
Andrea
◆ "Huh‽" Jumping, his face shot red as he realized that, somehow, he'd picked a taken table without realizing it. "Christ almighty, lass, where the fuck you'd come from? And how'd you read my mind? I was *Just* Thinking about how mid the food is here, but like... If you can read minds then I feel sorry for you! This place is fuckin' *Full* Of barmies, I swear."

□ Managing to pivot his surprise into a joke, the irony that he himself looked like a so-called *Barmy* Was not lost on him. He was seated in the middle of a prison cafeteria, with half of his mop dyed, dilute pink corduroy trousers, a garish paisley shirt, and plenty of rings to boot. If anything *He* Looked like a nutcase, or perhaps an art student in the making. Whatever the case, he now had to deal with this much taller gal, who in all honesty gave off a certain vibe that, while indescribable, was felt in the pit of his stomach.

▪︎ Or maybe it was just the lingering embarrassment, freckles on his face showing themselves like they only did when his cheeks flushed Valentine's Day.

◆ "Oh, uh. Keeping half of Manchester up for a fortnight while figuring my powers out. Turns out a bunch of suburban Mancunians don't like being kept up by a walking ambulance siren." An awkward chuckle followed. "Had to figure 'em out somehow. What about you, mate? What do they got ya in here for?"
Marie
"What'd you mean where'd I come from? I sat here first, dude, plus you were talking to yourself like some kind of... I don't know, nut?" She retorted with energy, the situation somehow escalating just by the fact that she was involved.

Compared to his flashy and distinct outfit, she looked much more... Average: Grey jacket, blue and white shirt, red high-tops, black leggings; her outfit consisted of simple stuff that nobody could ever rock and fuck up, albeit it hid her feminine figure for a bit save for her chest. What she lacked in fashion the boy in front of her probably had and doubled.

"You're here for public disturbance?"

Huh. Manchester of all places.

"I'm here for possession and trafficking two kilos' worth of cocaine and illegal posession of a deadly weapon." She bluntly explained, eating nonchalantly as if she hadn't just admitted to a serious crime.