l is for liberation . novak & yury

yury              catastrophe //

"HEY, FUCK YOU- UGhuguh, what the world, putting your fucking hands on me," you don't wake a man up like that, bud. Not since the D.C., that's a lesson you learn on Day fucking TWO. Novak ain't touch him, but he got a lil too close. That guy's getting a little too comfortable for his own good, Yury ain't ever liked making friends. Partners- he collects his spit and shoots at the metal tin in the corner, landing somewhere between a Home Spirit 72 carton and a roach the size of Timbuctoo. 

"Hell, this'n's still good," good morning to you too, Adrien. Dumbass can't even smoke a joint 'cause he's scared of burnin' a thumb or some stupid shit like that. He's a weak one, I'll tell you, Yury won't say it but Adrien doesn't stand a chance against goddamn Kernie Emberstaf or however the fuck. Yury ain't never liked someone with a long name, Catastrophe's the exception - and don't you forget it, 'cause once we find you, woo! 

Done for. 

Over with.

ENTIRELY!

And so anyways, Adrien's no coward, he'll act like it but this boy's gut is telling you something and that's how you win a man over anyhow. Yury picks himself out of seclusion and comes over to Mr. Mayor-to-Not-Be for coffee, but he'll take a conversation for a cigarette.

"Whiskey'll do just fine." 

He says mostly to himself, the shot is smooth, cleaner than a menthol, he'd kill for a special select right now. A Blackberry & Mild - wine, wood tip, if you please. As easy as ordering breakfast, "you deliver?" He nods to the anklet with his patient number on it, "might be my last few days before they ship me back off to Cell 02C." Those kids last year were keeping it warm apparently - Anarchy & Cedric, fuckin' kids can't even wait to die these days.

"If I'm lucky."

- They got us again.

"So what's up. Got any m*rijuanna?" 

yury              catastrophe //

Yeah, twist them rings, baby! Round and round, woo-hoo. Yury's off in Yury-land, the rodeo's in his head and that's much better than here I'll tell you that. Back and forth, teeter-totter, it's hard not to rock in his seat with the amount of pent up energy he's got. He shouldn't be here, you know that don't you? Yury should be a free man, once he's out of here he's digging up that pistol and all the fat money bags and taking off to a better place than District Pen. 

He's a rooster in a small coop, cramped and irritated and "menthol? D'aww, you must really love me," should we sleep with him? Nah, nah, keep it cool. Ice cool baby, minty fresh. Yury's lit the cigarette and keeps his eye on the cherry as Novak starts up again. His clothes are clean but his boots aren't - what a hard worker! Truly, a good Samaritan, you can't pull the wool over his eyes. 

Novak ain't no damn mayor, no chance in hell.

But the words are sweet, and damn would it be nice knowing the mayor's on his side. Yury can't help doing a little jig with his left foot while Adrian's watching. Take a good luck, bud, and he can't help it either when he chuckles. Out of exhaustion mostly, he's been slammed a few times but the process gets so old. There's a pause in the conversation as Yury takes a deep drag of the cig, a good guy like me.

He got the right guy? Exhale, "you spot the inmate ID? 7811, jot that down in your little notes. If you need to contact a good guy like me, y'know," he's annoyingly bright-eyed. Hopeful in a stupid way, he's a good kid and he's never fooled Elio or Yury or anyone else watching, but ain't a chance in hell this guy wins. In a good guy race, Novak vs Emberstatt- yeah, good luck.

You'll need it, Adrian. 

"Want?" He offers the cigarette with a wink, better give it back, dumbass. 

yury              catastrophe //

"What if…"

"if, if, if-!"

He signs along like a kid- oops! Actually ashed out of excitement, god he hates to make a mess of things. Just kidding, he takes a long drag to distract his mouth as Novak picks up from his pause. Flicking ash onto the slab floor, it rubs it in with his boot, smearing it across. "What if I find you a place to lay low?" Novak presents, and judge, Yury and execution fumbles with it in their head.

Well?

It sounds good, hmm.

Too good, too good too good too good, worse case scenario? Oh- it could be a trap. Or a test, god Yury always fails though. The guards test his patience every chance they get because they know a quick fire like him is used to shooting on sight - he slips up, oops would you look at that, another year as 7811. No dice, no luck, no sir-eee. "Well that's cute, but I've got my own questions." He lies, shit what are the questions? 

It felt better than agreeing, he takes a long drag again to distract from his pause. Collect himself, one deep breath and the exhale's darker in this lighting. "If you get me out of here though, remind me to show you my parlor tricks," smoke rings, another inmate taught him a few of her own too. Still, he has no answer to what his questions are. Fumble and fumbling, "I don't know if I'd risk that if I were you though, Mr. E-lect-tore-iol. Aren't I high risk anyhow?" He says, the question with a mouthful of smoke. 

Still, he offers Novak a drag, "swap spit?" He laughs, "you won't catch nothin', I think," nothing you ain't lookin' for anyhow, anyways. Yury's free hand is shaking - it's freezing in here, he thought he was going crazy but they ice out the prisoners. Chill out - laugh out loud. There's one thing for sure, if he gets outta here now, there won't be another get-out-of-jail free card in the future. It's still so tempting though. 

Hmm. 

"And if you move me out there, what, you expect my help?" Can I help? 

Are those the same questions? 

Fuck it, I'm taking my cigarette back.