<strong>Prisoner Ella Thompson<br/>Cell Block CD17 </strong><br/><br/>The guard's body language kept the prisoner at ease enough so that when she stepped fully into the cell, Ella did not flinch or draw further away.<br/><br/>"Unless you want to stay here."<br/><br/>"No!"  The rushed whisper coupled with a quick shake of her head.  She didn't want to stay here, not at all.  She wanted to be far far from here.  In her own bed.  In her own apartment.  No where near hard plastic bunks and metal toilets and four too close walls.  No where near GenTech.<br/><br/>Ella looked from the proffered hand up to the earnest, pretty face.  "Won't you get in trouble if the Warden finds out?"  She whispered conspiratorially.  Stepping closer, she raised her hand though was not quite ready yet to slip it over top the other woman's, instead wondering again at the motivations of such kind attentions.<br/><br/>The rumored horror stories on the outside, the frightening words of welcome just hours ago; it made no sense.  Her mind scrambled a moment for possibilities.  First, they were nearly the same age and even from different origins young women had similar interests.  Second, the guard was naturally friendly; Ella knew that when she brought them through the initial tour from the intake area.  And finally, who knew how often the staff were able to get out of this place.<br/><br/>Perhaps this girl with the power to hurt at the tip of a slender finger was a different sort of prisoner in this fortress under the sea.  Perhaps they all were...<br/><br/>The nod was barely perceptible as a slightly trembling palm slid over the waiting upturned one.