The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

Imprisoned

"Able, don't be like that," she set her arm against the door and her head against her arm. "I'm still your friend, even if I didn't sound like it just then."

"That...didn't sound friendly to me, no."

"Yeah," she sighed. "It was callous of me to tease you about it when you're imprisoned, no matter how far across the sea the priests might be."

Tease him? He lifted his head and tried to make out her expression in the tiny window. Did that mean she meant to keep quiet about it?

"If I say sorry," she continued "will you stop moping and come over here where I can see your eyes?"

"...why?" he frowned.

"Because I like them, dummy," she smiled somewhere between amused and sad.

Able found his feet and walked to stand in front of the door and loosely spread his arms, "Here I am, not going anywhere." He could tell by Day's expression that his countenance must have deteriorated.

"Maybe I can put in a good word for you."

"Would that do anything?"

"I don't know," she shook her head and sighed.

"Don't risk your career," he put his hand on the door so he could lean on it.

"I won't, don't worry," she chuckled dryly. "But is there something I can do for you?"

"I don't even know how long I've been in here."

"Three days, yeah? That's when the atta—incident happened."

"Really?" he looked at the ceiling. "That would be why I'm so hungry."

"They're not feeding you much?" she wrinkled her nose. "I could say you're looking faint. Would hardly be a lie."

"Thanks," he smiled wryly. "Could you bring me a book or something? Hell, I'd take a sponge and bucket so I could clean this room. Anything."

"I'm sure, but sorry," one corner of her mouth pulled sympathetically. "The point of confinement is to get you addled so you'll be more compliant."

"Ah," Able blew air. "That makes sense. I suppose with everything else going on, the investigation hasn't made much headway, yet?"

"I can see what I'm allowed to tell you," she shrugged.

Able figured she meant this, but recalled that Green called herself Capstone's protege, and had assumed Capstone would be heading up the investigation, given that the records indicated that she was secretary to an investigative officer during the war. According to the reports, said officer was killed in action, and she had effectively taken over all his duties. The only recognition she had gotten for her service was from Captain Reeve himself. It was apparent where loyalties would fall.

But he still thanked Day for the sentiment if nothing else.

In the day or days that followed, he could not even tell if she was successful in getting the guards to feed him more, as he remained hungry after his meals. He had taken to, of all things, singing to keep his mind occupied. He did know very many songs by heart, nor did he think he sounded very good, but no one complained or even commented on it. In fact, he had started to think he had squandered the one friendly visitor he was going to receive when he heard footsteps and voices approaching the dead end of his cell.

"You've got ten minutes. Got it?"

"Thank you so much," a woman sniffled.

Able found himself standing and peering through the bars to see a frizzy spray of dishwater blond hair and a narrow, freckled face appear in the window.