Rebekah
He shakes his head. "It probably is boring. I don't know, probably still better than being homeless or something. If it were me, I'd like to be *Around* Fifty years down the line. It's not always about the fun." A shrug.
"Yeah, sure." He says. "I suppose I'm not much of a runner. Or in the mood for one, for that matter."

"Bye then. Guess I'll see you around?" He says in a unspirited tone. He starts to move for the exit at his own pace, to go their separate ways.
Charles
◆ "Yeah, see ya around, man. Tell your cat I said hey."

□ With that, Margo slipped her earbuds in and began to jog away, a steady yet speedy pace putting the distance between herself and the cat whisperer she'd just met. Where he was going, she didn't know, but wherever it was she hoped that the cat was doing fine. She knew how it felt to have a beloved pet, after all, and if she hadn't been able to bring Cosmo along she'd have likely been hopelessly lost, so this lad being able to walk off campus and see his pet cat registered as a nice thing in her head.

▪︎ And after a few moments, the thoughts slipped away for another train. She was off.

• [6:30pm...]

◇ One motion, a breath, then another.

□ Like the protagonist of some 80s movie, Margo was outside of the prison in the lazy hours of the afternoon practicing, of all things, tai chi. It was just another segment of her heavily regimented day-to-day life, where everything was strictly set out for her before the day even began, and as much as it confused her at times she knew that it was for the best. So, there she stood, in a Garfield cowboy t-shirt and purple-white cargo pants, her feet planted into running shoes and her body flowing like water, venting the day's frustrations and also helping work off the calories she'd just ate for supper.

▪︎ Maybe her strictly regimented life would have been a bore to most, but to her it was a sense of control, a sense of routine, and it made sure her days were refreshingly familiar. 

• Another breath, another movement. A real sense of calm engulfed her, and she smiled in response.
Bryan
That day, Mélodie was grumpy.

She had been doing laundry the prior evening, and had stuffed her favorite shirt in the wash before hanging it to dry. Everything as normal. However, when she returned the following morning to retrieve her articles, she found - much to her surprise and indignation - that her favorite shirt was nowhere to be seen. Clearly, it had been stolen!

With nothing else to really break it, she had been hung up on the bad mood from that morning ever since then. Not even the fact that she would probably find it again, since any would-be thief would almost certainly have to use the laundry room to clean it again, could soothe her bruised soul.

As she walked across the courtyard, however, something - or rather, someone - struck her eye. A stranger, looking about her own size, wearing something that looked very much like her own shirt.

That wouldn't slide. She approached Margo, visibly upset, fists resting on her hips in a pose almost anyone could recognize as anger, and looked her squarely in the eyes.

"You're wearing my shirt."
Charles
◇ At first, Margo didn't even notice the oncoming accusation, but then...

■ "Wait, what." Visibly confused, she finished her little motion arc before looking over at the other girl, whose fists were pressed to her hips in a manner that could only be interpreted as angry. Taking a few moments to think it over, she tugged at the t-shirt, looking down at it with a confused look. "Fuck, man, I could have sworn I brought my own back yesterday. I have one exactly like this; must be that someone stole mine and then I mistook yours for mine. Weird. Anyways, man, sorry about that, I'll give it back to ya in a bit, alright?"

◆ "I mean, I can't exactly take it off out here; I got nothing else on under it, and like hell I'm going topless."

▪︎ Fair enough. Now all she could do was hope that the other girl was a bit more understanding.
Bryan
Mel was sort of satisfied, for a very brief moment, but was then immediately hit by a strong sense of surprise and bewilderment. "Wait, what?"

Not only was there *More than one of these shirts* At Newton's Cradle, but apparently they had both been in the laundry room on the same day, and... Wait, no. What? Mel's brain visibly creaked and groaned, trying to decipher the situation. She was not a smart girl. "Uhhhhh..."

"...I only got this out of the wash last night." She looked down at her own shirt, without really thinking about it. "It's probably not mine, then? Woulda been, like, wet or something when you grabbed it. Sorry."

Why the fuck do people steal clothes? What's the point? *Tabernak.* "Lemme know if you have two of them, I guess."
Charles
◆ "Yeah, my thoughts exactly, man." Margo breathily chuckled, letting her body gently settle back into a standard upright pose. "What's the odds we both have the same shirt *And* Wound up doing laundry at the same time? Weird odds. *Strange* Odds."

□ Affecting her voice so it sounded more mystical or otherwise playfully mocking of the whole situation, she stuffed her hands into her pockets and hummed softly as the other girl spoke. That, and she also thought of the strange circumstances that had to line up for such an upselling of confusion to occur. It all seemed pretty unlikely, but the proof was in the pudding, and now she knew that there was someone else around the prison who had an affinity for cheeky Garfield shirts.

▪︎ What a coincidence.

◆ "I honestly might've just got my washer mixed up or something. Or maybe you forgot it in there... I dunno. Either way, man, I'll keep an eye out for the other one. Maybe you should, erm... Post a little thingy. A note. Isn't there a posting board in the dorm building?" She was certain she'd seen it before, but now that she was trying to recall it all seemed so distant. Rats. "Also, gotta say, it's kinda funny to think that there's two of us in garish goofy Garfield shirts. Drip or drown, I guess."
Bryan
Mel gives an amused snort in response. "Drip or drown, haha. I'm gonna go, uhh... Do that, I guess." She turns around, and is about to leave, before she quickly turns back, as if she had forgotten something, and leaves Margo with a grin and a single comment: "Nice shirt!"