Terrence Young laid atop his small, modest bed.  If he could call it that.  It looked like the offspring of a cot and a sofa bed and about as comfortable.  The sheets smelled of the dank water they were washed in.  Clean and adequate.  That word sort of summed up the entirety of his experience here.  Adequate.  It'd been nearly a year since he arrived.  It hadn't been so easy in the beginning.  There was a steep learning curve where one found out just how strong both their resolve and sanity were.  It's not uncommon to hear one of the newbies crack under the pressure.  It would end with a breakdown or an outburst.  How ever that particular individual seemed to cope with that kind of thing best.<br/><br/>He was lucky enough to make it through the first few months.  There were some he might consider friends, some acquaintances, and others he hardly gave a glance to.  Things were stable enough there.  His cell mate wasn't ideal, but he could do much worse.  At least the man didn't snore.<br/><br/>His hands were currently grasping either side of the morning newspaper.  Between that and the television they were allowed to watch, he didn't feel so detached from the outside world.  Granted, he wouldn't be seeing it with his own eyes anytime soon, but he could still feel time passing by somewhat.<br/><br/>Laughing and yelling broke his concentration on what he was reading.  It came from the outside which meant it must be arrival time for the new inmates.  His hands closed the paper and folded it in half before tossing it on the bed beside him.  Young threw his feet over the side and stood, moving to the small window in his cell.  He had to stand on his tip toes to see downward on the ground, but when he did, he saw a bus and a line of men ready to be admitted in.  One in particular seemed be receiving a rather rough welcome.  Terrence could barely make out his face, but upon finally getting a good look, he knew just who the man was.  A smile crossed his lips.  "Taylor King."  He muttered to himself and glancing back to the headline of the newspaper.  So this was his resting place for the next quarter century.  He almost felt sorry for the man...almost.  At least he could say he never killed anyone, especially not a police officer.  Was the other man really that stupid?<br/><br/>Young turned and grabbed his shirt which had been thrown on the floor near the bed.  He usually went without it when not needed.  The ventilation in his cell block wasn't great, so every bit of airflow was good in his mind.  He slipped the plain white garment over his torso and walked out of the cell.  Seeing as King was there, it seemed like a good time to go and see for himself.  It wasn't every day that they got such a celebrity walking amongst them.  The resulting events would surely be worth watching.  The guards did not always embody the 'by the book' mentality.  Young knew that well enough when one of them threatened to have him thrown in confinement if he didn't do as he was ordered, and that was just for someone like himself.  He was sure that it would not be all kittens and rainbows for King.  No.  This, he had to see.