<strong>Prisoner Ella Thompson<br/>personal quarters of Guard Anzhelika Nikolaev</strong><br/><br/>Shifting on the couch, curling her socked foot under her, Ella let her gaze follow the troubled guard.  The story was bleak, her imagination couldn't do justice to the tragic squallor.  Anzhelika was just so young to be a prison guard 'all her life'.  About the time Ella was giggling with roommates in a college freshman dorm, this girl was already guarding the worst sorts of society, enduring a brutal, depressing realitiy.  With no place she called home.<br/><br/>The painful twist in her chest a reminder of two loving homes; sure the first disowned her and the second led to her current circumstances, but she couldn't deny the good stuff.  Perhaps this Russian girl had a few good parts too.  Something that kept her sane, kept her warm and generous.  Stifling a soft sigh, Ella wanted to ask more about family, it would have been nice to know the girl had brother or sisters to cushion all the hard angles.  Ella would have changed the subject just with the look on the other girl's face, if she hadn't done it with her question.<br/><br/>The suggestion of sharing a bed bubbled up a surprising laugh, "I haven't had a sleep over since before high school.  Damn.  That was forever ago."   As her mind wandered back the smile slowly waned; bittersweet memories calling back the threatening sting of tears.  Reaching for the cup still on the tray, she happily sipped at the rich black coffee, the bitter flavor a welcome distraction and watched her hostess curiously.  Ella paused her study of the pink-streaked blond.<br/><br/>"Anzhelika?"   The unfamiliar name was getting easier to roll off her tongue, still her voice was soft and warm.  "Are you so friendly and kind to all the prisoners here?  I mean the candy, the warm clothes, "  Illustrated by a brush of fingers over covered thigh, she went on with a teasing wiggle of toes, "the one sock."   Having heard the sharp tongue used on someone else she was certain it wasn't the case.  Maybe befriending prisoners was the guard's 'good stuff', the place she went to keep herself sane.<br/><br/>Switching the cup for the sock, the unknowing guest shifted her seat to pull the warm material over her bare toes waiting for an answer.