<strong>Prisoner Ella Thompson<br/>personal quarters of Guard Anzhelika Nikolaev</strong><br/><br/><em>The tales this girl must have to tell.</em>With an internal shudder she set the coffee back on the table.  It had grown bitter as it cooled unlike the hand on her knee.<br/><br/>Having known the tender affections of a family and a lover both, there was no initial shock at the contact but Ella saw as the guard went on a certain light in her pretty eyes.  A look that sought something more from her than friendly interaction.  The prisoner's brow furrowed as Anzhelika went on; she could hardlly believe the impassioned words.<em>So, the stories on the outside are true?</em>Everyone had heard vague ghost stories of horrors suffered behind corporation prison walls.  Shaking her head in disbelief, Ella shifted slightly, subtly disengaging from the guard's grip with out too much trouble.<br/><br/>"You can't be serious."  She stood then, the dishwater gray dress falling around the borrowed sweat pants as she soundlessly padded around the couch.  Ella studied the other girl's face, her mind rejecting the story on it's surface, but deep down she wasn't so sure.  There were many things in the face framed in gold and pink.  Could a lie be one of them?<br/><br/>"Research?  You make it sound like mad scientists run this place, Anzhelika."  The fingers of one hand twisted and pulled at the fingers of the other, a nervous habit from long ago.  "It's insane what you say.  There are laws... regulations.  and..." A hand snaked up behind her neck to find the small puncture so recently created there.  She paled a little staring at the other girl and swallowed a growing lump of fear.  "I can't go far."