Dylan Sommers
Dylan laughed to himself and shook his head as he sit down on his bench. He interlocked his fingers and pushed them outwards, crackling every bone in his hand and then placed them behind his head and leaned his head back. His palms were no pillows, but it was either that or lean his head on the cold steel wall.
"Oh, I'm gonna make a lot of friends here, yes indeed." he muttered to himself.
There was something that unsettled him, and it was Katya and her obsession with the wire. "She's playing with it and polishing it. I knew what she meant by '...if I...take my time.'. People like that never bat an eye while killing; they just tune off and go on like it never happened. As much as I dislike being humiliated by women, I better keep my distance from her. Last thing I want is to be beheaded by her for pissing them all off. Her obsession with that... wire is unhealthy." Dylan pinched a bit of the spandex that hugged his chest and smiled, "But who am I to talk about unhealthy obsessions?"
Before he shut his eyes, he watched a guy with a red suit and a trenchcoat talking to himself and eating chimichangas. He slowly drifted into sleep, even with the unending blabbering of the new guy.
