There he went, with his little 'show', Charles Donovan showing off again, probably doing so specifically to get on Slade's nerves. He was positive of that. There was no way anyone could be this mind-numbingly infuriating on accident.<br/><br/>Slade positively bristled whenever he was around Donovan. He was one of the few people who could just... push his buttons like no tomorrow. He clenched his hands into fists, his knuckles cracking as he had to hold back a very real, very demanding urge to punch Donovan in his smug face right then. He couldn't, of course. That kind of thing got you in trouble, especially in a place where it'd be obvious.<br/><br/>"... you listen here, 'Charlie'." Slade lowered his voice to a low growl, and despite the fact that Donovan had a good several inches over him, he glared daggers at the man. "Unless you<em>want</em>me to make your life miserable, I'd cut the smartass crap. You're coming out of solitary today, and my money's on you being put with one of the new arrivals. Guess what? A lot of them in here for murder, and the ones that aren't, are in here for rape."<br/><br/>His eyes locked on Donovan's, he decided not to acknowledge what he'd said - about him pumping him full of something to make him more compliant. Acknowledging something like that with another guard within earshot would've been stupid.<br/><br/>"You want your life not to be a living hell? Show some goddamned respect. And yes, you<em>are</em>that troublesome."<br/><br/>Slade took a deep breath, taking a few steps back and folding his arms. "Gather your things. Though I'd like nothing more than to leave you locked in here alone where you can't grate my last nerve, you're getting out of here."