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<li data-xf-list-type="ul"> This situation was ugly, just plain ugly. Sure, the evidence pointed directly to her latest patient because he had committed several murders and gotten away with it for a while until the police system apprehended him and sent the man here, it was merely the situation that he was not up for parole any time in his life. He was already in his mid thirties, they were going to let him suffer in the prison system or electrocute him. For a second, the woman resembled a child, lips set at a soft pout, the maximum security wing behind her and her mind evidently not on the high pitched whistles let out into the air, whether they came from guards or inmates was not on her mind. Heels hitting the floor in time carefully, her pretty eyes danced across everything they could catch, a habit in being observant that she had grown fond of in her childhood. The smell of a freshly lit cigarette carrying her to the third floor, none of the guards were silly enough to walk around smoking cigarettes and teasing the inmates while they were in their cells, her eyes stopping upon the familiar back of a male as he blew his smoke out a window as though it would make a difference. Or maybe it was merely the way <i>she</i> was, sensing these things. <b>"Smoking those things will kill you. <i>Cancer </i>sticks. "</b> Esme's voice called out to him, soft but audible entirely, bangs pulled away from her face thanks to a bobby pin and hair off her neck due to the large black clip that set on the back of her head, a few loose strands hung around the sides of her face as she moved to stand near him at the window.[/list:u]</li>
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