Meeting with the Madam

[Mama]

Mama sat in the midst of her girls, stretched languidly on the bleachers. Her elbows rested on the bench slightly above her, propping her back up, and Mama tilted her head back to catch the sun on her face. Her eyes were closed and the remnants of a sleepy, self-satisfied smirk curled her lips.

Mama always felt better when it was sunny, and today was no exception. It was going to be a good day, she could feel it.
The Southern woman partly opened her eyes, watching lazily as all around men and women wandered into her domain to chat up her girls. Candace, Mama’s cellmate, was currently on the arm of a big con. She smiled widely as the inmate boasted about his earlier days as Chicago’s greatest pick pocket, giggling behind her hand at his wild – and likely false – tales. Candace’s eager charms seemed to work on the inmate who discretely flashed some green. She continued to smile, her gaze sliding back to the ever watchful Mama. The Southern woman swept her gaze over the potential customer before looking back to Candace, giving a small nod.

Mama watched Candace turn back to the man with a coy smile and lead him away from the bleachers. Her dark gaze followed them across the yard until they were out of her sight, and Mama nodded to herself. Candace had sure come along way, helped along by Mama’s knowledge and experience in the area. Mama rolled her shoulders and stretched languorously, sighing as she tilted her head to the side and cracked her neck.

Opening her eyes again, Mama caught sight of a hateful figure standing by himself near the fence. She tilted her head, her dark hair sliding over one shoulder as she watched the con.

“Jazz,” Mama said, speaking to the small blonde beside her without looking from the man. “Who’s that oveh there?”

“Where Mama? Oh him. You know him Mama, he’s Rome. You remember him don’t’cha?”

“Mmhmm I sure do remember him; Thimble’s boy.” Mama purred lowly, feeling the familiar barb prick. She pursued her lips slightly, pausing for a fraction of a second before she relaxed and smirked again. Mama turned to Jazz and reached out, stroking the side of her face with a hand. “Oh Jazzy, be a good girl and do your mama a favour.”

Jazz, always eager to please, nodded quickly and shuffled closer. “Sure Mama, what you need?”

“I wanna talk to that boy, bring him to me.”

Jazz nodded again, seeming to wait for some further sign of affection from Mama, but she was disappointed when the Southern woman removed her hand from the girl’s cheek and flicked it lazily in dismissal. Still, keen to show her worth, Jazz beamed widely and announced, “You bet Mama. I’ma bring him right here, lickety-split!” She hopped up down from the bleachers and hurried across the yard, fixing her short blonde pony tail as she went.

Jazz slowed as she came closer to the solitary figure, a wide, friendly smile on her face. She remembered the young con from their brief encounter years ago in the library – she’d always thought him something of a cutie.

“Hi! Bet’cha don’t remember me do ya? It’s been a long time. A long long time in fact. Well I still remember you. I’ve got a mind for faces see. Not gotta a mind for much else, but I can always remember a face, and I’d certainly remember yours anywhere.” Jazz smiled shyly up at him, batting her blue eyes. It took a moment before she remembered that she had come over to speak to Rome with a purpose, and that flirting was merely a sidetrack from her original goal.

“Oh! But I gotta tell you somethin’! Silly me, I forgot – I forget things ya see. I’m s’posed to tell ya that Mama wants to talk to you.” She smiled at him like his being summoned by Mama was something wonderful.

[TAG: Rome ]

[Rome]

He wasn't completely sure what he thought about feeling so at home in Fox River.

On the one hand, that sort of familiarity was good. The comfort an individual could feel with their surroundings was an advantage. It encouraged his confidence, boosted his ego. As he moved through the masses, his usual arrogant swagger felt smoother, it felt flawless and on top of the world. And that came from feeling right at home, it came from knowing your place in the grand scheme of things.

On the other hand, he had to remember that Fox River was a fuckin' prison.

He was behind bars, in a cage, for getting out of control with his particular passion. His disposition was loathed, no matter how graceful it might be when displayed in his gait. Most of all, his best friend was no longer locked up with him; she was somewhere out there, in a shitty apartment that she'd still call nice with a shitty job that she'd also still call nice because she was too kind for her own good. She was out there and he was in here, which made Fox River completely the opposite of what home should be. It didn't matter how much the bright sun and the intoxicating heat reminded him of Houston. It would still cool down and be Illinois in the end.

Closing his eyes, he drew a breath in through his nose as he reached his hands up to lace strong fingers through the links of the fence. He exhaled slowly through his mouth as he tilted his weight to his right foot, leaning to the side and forward to hold himself up primarily with his grip on the yard boundary. Lean muscle twitched idly underneath tan skin with the motions and he opened his eyes, hazel eyes looking through the gaps to skim over gloomy buildings and more restrictions. He squinted against the light, the sun beating down on his figure as he stood on his own, his jacket tied about his waist and his sleeves rolled up.

It was sort of a boring day now that he thought about it.

As if some higher power that he didn't really give two hoots about had read his mind and decided to be generous despite his atheism, the cheerful chirp of a pretty blonde broke through his solitude to capture his attention, snapping his gaze over to her. She was a much better sight than the gloomy buildings and restrictions, that was for sure. Familiarity didn't really click in his head, not even as she revealed that they knew each other, but he still flashed a charming smile to his features and nodded as if he knew what the hell she was talking about.

His eyebrows rose as she stated her motive for approaching him, and he turned his upper body just enough to glance over his shoulder to bring Mama's bleachers into focus. They were no longer public property, they'd stopped being that a long time ago. They now completely belonged to the woman and her crew. They made that clear as they lounged about on the structure, spaced out to take up as much space as they could. He glanced over the powerful figure in the center of the group. She blended in with the rest of her girls, prison blues and slutty appeal, but there was a dominating aura about her that stood her out as the big boss. If he didn't know any better, he'd say the individuals seated in her presence all seemed to lean towards her a little bit, as if even their subconcious had been brainwashed to bend.

It was Mama. A refusal should have been immediate as soon as her name had been spoken, followed by some snarky comment or other if he was feeling froggy. "Wha's she want?" He questioned, tearing his eyes away from her to look back to the blonde that had come to fetch him, his grin gone and his expression serious. When it came to the other Southerner, it was perhaps one of few occasions in which the Texan could find the will to be grim.

[Mama]

Jazz tilted her head slightly as Rome responded. Her smile dimmed in the face of his grim expression and her forehead wrinkled with confusion. Why would Rome be so unhappy to be summoned by Mama? To Jazz there could be nothing greater. Mama seemed such an extraordinary figure to her; beautiful, intelligent, powerful, she was everything Jazz wished herself to be and for that reason, among the many others, Jazz loved Mama. It was beyond her comprehension to see the Southern woman as anything less than awe-inspiring.

Jazz thought for a moment longer, her innocent blue eyes studying Rome’s serious face. Why would he look so worried? What was there to be afraid of? Jazz turned to peek back over shoulder at the gang of men and women surrounding the bleachers, plying their trade, and in their midst lounged Mama. Jazz felt her heart swell with pride at the sight of the powerful woman she adored. Even from this distance she was struck by the confidence Mama exuded, her tanned face turned upward to meet the warm sun as if she weren’t at all concerned with her dangerous surroundings. Who could not be impressed by such a display of self-assured power? And then it hit her, Rome wasn’t unimpressed or unhappy to be asked into Mama’s presence, he was intimidated. Jazz could see how Mama might seem to be rather imposing, she held a powerful position and sometimes she used awfully big words that Jazz had trouble understanding. Once the blonde girl had put herself in the young man's shoes and thought on the matter a little further she didn’t blame Rome for being nervous at all. It couldn’t be easy to walk into the heart of a gang to speak to the leader.

Jazz turned back to Rome with a reassuring smile, her blue eyes softening with understanding. “Don’t worry; she said she just wants to talk to you.” Jazz nodded kindly, feeling it was her duty to put Rome’s mind at ease before taking him to Mama. “And between you’n me,” she lowered her voice conspiratorially; “she’s in a really good mood this morning so you’ve got nothing to worry about. I promise.” Jazz flashed him her sunniest everything’s-going-to-be-just-fine smile before twirling about and heading in the direction of the bleachers. She paused after a few steps to look back over her shoulder and make sure Rome was following her.

Jazz was an unusually happy young woman. She had almost no temper to speak of and her willingness to believe whatever she was told made her an easy target for Mama. Despite her foolishness, Jazz was a sweet girl who could be pleased and entertained by the simplest of things. Walking back over to the bleachers to be in the company of the people she loved, with the gentle breeze cooling her hot skin and the warm sun glinting prettily off the chain link fence (only Jazz could define such a thing so positively) the blonde woman felt that nothing bad could happen on so fine a day.

“Hey, do you still hear from Thimble now that she’s outa here?” Jazz asked, glancing over at Rome. She was in part curious to see if they still kept in contact, but mostly she asked just for the sake of conversation and because she thought it might help keep the young man distracted from any apprehensiveness he might still be feeling. “I always liked her. We used to talk allllll the time. Well, I’d talk and she’d listen mostly, but it was still fun. I miss her, only got to see her a few times once she left Mama’s crew, but she was always such a sweetheart.” Jazz nodded in agreement with herself, her eagerness to get back to the bleachers putting a bounce in her step. She hoped Mama would be pleased with her for bringing Rome, she hoped with all her heart that this small duty would make the Southern woman happy.

[Rome]

The girl was a particularly bright shade of sunshine, that much was for damn sure. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he had to squint against the high volumes of her positivity rather than against the actual sun falling down upon them.

For a moment, his brows knit together in confusion at her reassurance, glancing off to Mama and then back to the younger woman, tilting his head forward a touch as if the action would make it easier to hear and grasp her lowered words. It dawned on him a lagging moment later that she somehow believed him nervous in the face of Mama's summons. It wasn't an entire lie; Mama was an unpredictable woman, a cold and heartless snake, and the unexpected sort of did make Rome a little on the anxious side. However, regardless of the truth in it, he didn't like this girl assuming he was scared of anything, especially when that anything embodied the Southern bitch sprawled out on the bleachers.

He wanted to tell her that too. Loud and boisterous, he wanted to let that ball of sunshine in front of him know that he wasn't scared or nervous or worried or nothing - except that that ball of sunshine wasn't in front of him anymore. She was already off, bouncing her way across the yard with a happy stride toward the bleachers. A corner of his mouth pulled back in uncertain consideration as he watched her, peering past her momentarily to her destination and then back to her in time to see her looking back over her shoulder for him.

Mama was rather lucky that he was bored stiff or else she'd have been met with a resounding no.

As it was, he was bored stiff.

With a heavy sigh, he eased his fingers from their slots in the fence to turn and follow after the small girl that had been sent to fetch him. His own stride wasn't nearly as upbeat as her own, but there was the ever present confidence to his walk. It was steady and firm, but it took up space with his long legs and broad shoulders and ridiculous pride. He watched Mama as he went, but the kind notes of conversation snagged his attention and drew it down to the girl in front of him as she spoke, inquiring after Thimble and rattling off her own connection to his friend. Just the mention of her managed to bring a smile to his lips, a small huff of laughter as he nodded at the praise, a sweetheart indeed. "Yeah, I still talk'ta her, o'course." His friendship with the quiet woman wasn't one he'd give up for anything in the world, and he'd proven that devotion time and time again in the face of many attempts of sabotage by the very woman he was going to see. "Her name's Abby though." He wasn't entirely sure if that was information he was meant to be spreading around. Everyone in Fox River had known her by Thimble, and it had been years before she'd trusted him with the title. But he didn't want people to know her by Thimble anymore. That was a degrading leash that had tied her to Mama and she didn't carry that around anymore now that she was free. Regardless of whether it was his right to make the decision to make the world aware of the fragile girl, he'd made it anyways.

Speaking of degradation though. He sucked in his lip to hold the strip of flesh between his teeth for a moment as he slowed his stride, falling a bit further behind the girl as they descended upon the bleachers. Gradually, he stopped in front of the structure, hands sliding into his pockets and weight coming to drift to one side more than the other. Lazy and bored, not at all anxious or worried. "Ya mus' be just as bored as I am ta'day." He commented with a polite grin that oozed falsehood.

[Mama]

“Abby, huh?” Jazz stopped her eager steps towards the bleachers to contemplate the tid bit of news Rome had delivered to her. She tilted her head to the side for a moment before another sunny smile lighted her heart shaped face and she nodded. “Yeah, I like it! Abby’s a nice name, suits her I think. Hey could you do somethin’ for me? Since you see her sometimes tell her Jazz says hi, and I hope she’s doin’ good, and I miss our girly chats.”

Rome was nearing the bleachers with every step and Jazz had to quit her chatter and hurry to catch up. She wanted very much to arrive first and been seen more or less delivering Rome to Mama, it wouldn’t do to fall behind. Hopping up onto the first bench, Jazz raised her eager voice. “Hey Mama, I’m back!”

Mama opened her eyes slowly, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun. Her dark, hooded gaze flickered from Jazz’s good-natured face to Rome. Her eyes roved slowly over his figure, noting the ease with which he held himself, lazy and bored, as if he could barely deign to be here. Mama smiled suddenly; perhaps the Southerners were more alike than had been previously thought. She didn’t doubt this would disgust the young man. Mama turned her gaze back to Jazz and nodded slowly, purring a low, “you done good Jazz Baby. Thank ya.”

Jazz flushed with pleasure, taking a hesitant step forward as though she wished to sit beside Mama. However, the blonde woman seemed to think better of it and opted instead to sit by Mama’s second in command, Slash, positioning herself well within eavesdropping range.

Mama chuckled lowly at Rome’s comment, dropping her hand from her eyes and pulling herself into a more upright sitting position. “Seems that way don’t it? If I’m honest I didn’t really know if ya’d come or not… but here you are, the Roman Churchill.” Mama tilted her head to the side slightly, her tongue gliding along her lower lip. She was still for a moment before moving to pat the empty seat beside her, the corners of her eyes crinkling slightly as she smiled once more. “Come’n have a seat Rome. How’ve ya been?”

[Rome]

He raised an eyebrow, glancing back to the girl with a curious look as she paused in her stride and he slowed just enough to not lose her even though he refused to actually stop for her. He wasn't that much of a gentleman. Uncertainty filled him with her enthusiastic approval of Abby's name, but he pushed it aside in order to keep up with her rapid talking. He could only assume that this girl was Jazz and that Abby would remember her where he did not. He felt a little stumbled at the idea of his friend having 'girly chats' with anyone, let alone with this chattery bird, but it wasn't something he could linger on for long as the bleachers grew closer with each continued pace.

The blonde passed him by with a hurried skip in her step, her voice high and desperate to please. Warily, he observed the lazy motions of the Southern woman that had summoned him, her eyes shaded by the brim that her hand created and he felt something crawl underneath his skin in eerie shivers as her gaze slithered over him. He kept his expression as steady as he could manage, grin sliding on like a defined masquerade mask and his hatred sitting like an infectious deep in his gut.

Glancing off briefly as Jazz sat out to the side, he ignored the way Mama sat up for him and he instead skimmed his attentions over their surroundings. He wasn't safe here, that was for sure. This area belonged to Mama and her crew, a dozen and some brainwashed boys and girls that would probably do whatever it took to please the older woman lounging at every angle of the bleachers, and nobody would come to his aid if he needed it. Of course, it was unlikely anybody would come to his aid even if they'd been anywhere else in the yard. The guards would probably enjoy sitting on their asses for a moment longer, watching a fight before breaking it up.

Whatever. He wouldn't need help anyways. He never did.

Taking in a breath to release it in a heavy sigh, exuding boredom and apathy, he returned his gaze to Mama as she spoke in that thick drawl. Hearing the accent on her sort of made him a little embarrassed and self-concious of his own. A hollow laugh filtered out of his throat as he shrugged his head to the side, looking off for a moment. His full name in the sound of her voice annoyed him. It was just a little bit worse than Cherub, that was for sure; not that he'd tell her that or he'd be most likely to hear it a hell of a lot more often, which he did not want. He looked back to watch her hand pat the empty seat beside her. His gaze lifted to her face, features twisted into the very picture of maternal warmth and innocence - and a load of deceit if he knew her right, which he was pretty sure he did. "I'm jus' passin' through," he returned with a smile of his own and a small shake of his head, answering her pleasantry and declining her offer in the same breath. It wasn't a smart move, but he'd never been accused of being a smart man and it was a little fun defying the woman on her grounds, even over the little things.

[Mama]

Mama’s smile didn’t falter as he declined her offer with an equally sickly sweet expression, his words dripping with false courtesy. Mama was aware of the defiance and insult he’d woven into the polite statement and she allowed herself to consider that this young man standing before her wasn’t the same fool she’d dealt with on previous occasions. Before she felt she could have manipulated him easily, playing on his quick temper and his ‘fish-status’ to frighten and bully him. Well, it seemed this little fish had learnt a thing or two over the years, he was more cautious in his dealings with her. She could almost see those rusty gears clunking and churning in his head, weighing his odds, watching out for her angle, whatever it may be. Mama didn’t presume this sudden display of prudency came from Rome’s own ability, she assumed rather that he had learnt caution from that ungrateful traitorous little slut Thimble, who’d surely rubbed off on him in more ways than one. Mama wasn’t one to be dissuaded so easily however, in fact she rather enjoyed the challenge he offered, confident that she would win in the end, she usually did.

“Oh now don’t be like that. I ain’t askin’ too much of ya am I?” Mama allowed her smile to slide from her lips and be replaced by a momentary pout, her brow furrowing lightly. She sighed lowly, her dark eyes dropping downward in a sudden show of concession and humility. “‘Course I understand your bein’ timorous, I know you ain’t got much cause ta trust me, Rome. Can’t say I blame ya.” She paused with an off handed shrug, lifting her gaze to look at him sidelong. Her tongue flicked over her lower lip and then she was moving again, shifting back in her seat to prop her elbows behind her in a relaxed lounge. Her lowered voice gained its familiar pitch, etched with confidence and command.

“How ‘bout a lil’ show of trust, hmm? So you can see I really don’ mean ya no harm.” Mama tilted her head to the side, watching him for a moment with glittering dark eyes. “Slash, Velma, Judy, Sunny, think ya’ll should stretch your legs for a while.” Mama spoke without looking at the four members of her gang who posed the biggest physical threat. Each were considered to be Mama’s bulldogs rather than her whores – Sunny especially, ironically named for his lack of expression, stood at a powerful six foot four. They glanced momentarily at Mama before standing without a word and jumping from the bleachers, filing past Rome without so much as a ‘hi, how are ya’.

The Southern woman continued to recline on her wooden throne, a small smirk playing about her lips. “Now,” she smiled gently, her voice a warm purr, “come sit by me, Rome. I promise not to bite ya.”

[Rome]

Barely was there a moment where Rome could recall a time in which he'd failed to second-guess the intentions and motives of others. Individuals that were bold and confident, especially in this particular environment, were too often proven to be nothing more than snakes in the grass and he couldn't remember thinking any differently. Mama was the biggest damned serpent of the bunch. He'd been stabbed and beaten more times than he could care to count while imprisoned, stomped beneath the heels of guidos and crazies and chesters, but somehow his mind pegged her out as the most vicious to boot. He wasn't entirely sure what made her sit at the top of the festering pile of immoral debris, smiling and spewing those big-ass words that she loved so much, but she managed it and he doubted he'd ever understand why he felt more wary around her than he did around the guy that had slammed a shovel into his leg.

He wasn't sure what to think about her supposed display of trust as she dismissed four members of her crew. His hands remained in his pockets and he held still as they passed him by, but he glanced over each one as they ambled along as ordered, giving extra regard to the behemoth named Sunny. Idly, Rome had to doubt that the guy was pulling in many customers. Not unless he looked fucking handsome as hell if he ever smiled, but that seemed doubtful too.

Attentions were claimed once more by the Southern woman as she again encouraged him to sit by her with a promise not to bite. Serpents tended to lie a lot and he imagined she had particularly pointed teeth - like a vampire or something similarly wicked, he'd guess - so he wasn't sure how much he believed that reassurance.

His swagger was apparent even in the few short steps it took to reach the bottom of the bleachers, lazy and nonchalant. He picked his foot up, propping the sole of his boot against the very edge of the first step as if he just might be taking the Southern woman up on her offer to sit down. He leaned forward as if to shift his weight onto his leg to pick himself up and ascend the wooden structure. Instead, in gentle momentum, he pushed off to retreat back the steps he had taken, shaking his head in persistant rejection. "Nah, y'know, I sit enough in my cell." He responded with a thoughtful frown on his features before shrugging. "Thanks though, real sweet of ya'ta offer." There wasn't a thing about the woman that was sweet or trustworthy, but it would do him no good to be less than civil. Somewhere along the road, some way, he'd learned a few things. He'd thank Abby for that right after he gave her Jazz's message maybe.

[Mama]

Really, she should have known he wouldn’t give in so easily. Still, there was a moment where she considered climbing down from her throne and punching that arrogant shit right in his pretty little mouth. Mama smiled instead, masking her frustration over his defiance with a small nod of her head.

“Fair enough, gotta suit yaself I s’pose.” Mama shrugged lightly, pausing to push the sleeves of her t-shirt higher up her shoulders. Rome was right to think of her as a snake in the grass, and as she sat reclining on the bleachers she indeed seemed very much like a great serpent sunning itself upon a rock. Mama was under no disillusionment of who she was or how others might view her; if Rome were to have spouted his opinion on her reptilian appeal she would have likely laughed in his face. Snakes were beautiful, misunderstood creatures, and it seemed fitting that she should be compared thus. After all, what could be more alluring than the sensuous sway of the cobra, or more deadly than its venomous bite?

Mama made a small purr of satisfaction in the back of her throat, smiling as the hot sun warmed her body. “Mmm I just love days like this, don’t you?” Her dark gaze drifted over him lazily, and her smile was slow and creeping. She tilted her head to the side as she watched him, her teeth dragging at the flesh of her lower lip as a soft frown marred her brow.

“S’been a while since we’ve had a chat ain’t it, Rome?” Mama paused to wait for his answer, shifting lightly in her seat and releasing her lip only to wet it lightly with her tongue. “I understahnd ya been on y’own now since Thimble left ya. Cain’t be easy, you two were tagethah a real long time.” The use of Abby’s prison name and the implication that she hadn’t simply been released from prison but had chosen to leave Rome were deliberate. There had been a time when Thimble had belonged to Mama, and in the Southern woman’s clutches the delicate girl had ceased to exist as a person but rather was owned as property and rented out to the highest bidder until Mama took a liking to her and had kept her as her own personal play thing.

The abuse in her words was hidden behind the gentle lacing of her apparent concern for Rome’s well being. She even managed to look as though she were attempting not to care; her long figure was relaxed and greatly at ease, while her lazy smile had slipped from her honey lips and faint signs of worry showed around the crease in her brow and the depths of her dark, lying eyes. Mama’s nonchalance was a veil covering the disquiet she seemed to be experiencing, but beneath the multitude of lies there coiled the Southern woman’s ruthless cunning.

[Rome]

His reciprocating smile at her purr was distorted and ugly, twisted into more of a disgusted sneer than he would have liked. Poker and civility had never been a game he was good at and, though he tried his best in that moment as he looked upon her reclined figure, his feelings were clearly displayed where he didn't want them to be. Right smack on his sleeve. He shrugged his shoulders all the same, moving his head nonchalantly to the side as if days like this didn't remind him of home and it was truly no big deal at all.

A short huff shot from his throat as he nodded his head to the side. "Guess it has. Ain't been long enough though, tell ya that." Oh my, was that a jab? Indeed it was, but he said it with a kind grin that actually looked like a grin, as if all he was doing was just joking and she didn't make him a little sick in the mouth.

The grin was tight as Mama brought Thimble up, referring to her by a name that he was working so hard to distance himself from. He bit his tongue, he wouldn't waste his breath trying to correct her as he'd done for her blonde little lapdog.

. . .

"Her name is Abby. It ain't Thimble."

Okay, maybe he would.

"An' she still comes around ta visit, she ain't all that gone. She's still with me." He corrected boldly, not thinking that perhaps it would be best to keep the details of their current arrangement in the dark. A smarter man would know that safety came in making sure the Southern madam knew as little as possible about any thing, but Rome had never been accused of being a gent with brains.

[ Ugh. This is even more awful than the other. XD I'm sorry, love! Please forgive me? ]

[Mama]

[There's nothing to forgive! It was the perfect segway into what Mama has planned for him she's been baaaaad. Gah this is the last time I will modify this post, I swears it!]

Mama could see she was starting to get to him and oh what pleasure it gave her to see that distorted smile twist his face. Bless him, he was trying his best to remain civil but she could almost feel the insults he longed to hurl in her face. Good, she wanted him wound tighter than a spring and fit to explode.

She smirked as one jab slipped from his lips, though he managed to cover it with a joking grin. She even managed to chuckle a little as if she really had taken his abuse as nothing more than a light hearted jest, wondering if it might aggravate him further for not succeeding in upsetting her.

Whatever she had said before to get him riled up was nothing in comparison to the response she recieved regarding Thimble. Mama watched the grin tighten on his face with interest, and then he was correcting her with all his usual bravado, his Texan accent fast and clipped. Mama shifted into an upright though comfortable sitting position, her forearms resting lightly on the tops of her legs. Her wrists were limp and relaxed, her hands hanging between her knees. She leant forward slightly, her dark eyes glittering as she let the silence draw on.

“I know Thimble’s real name,” she said at last, and her tongue caressed the flesh of her lower lip.

Mama kept her eyes on Rome for several long moments, the corners of her mouth quirking into a dangerous smirk. No matter what he said, no matter that he believed Thimble was still with him, there was a part of that small girl that would always belong to Mama. While the Southern woman was no longer a part of her present, and would likely never be a part of her future, she was soundly embedded in Thimble’s past, and from there could do the most damage. Mama would cruelly remind Rome of this every moment she got.

“You’re lookin’ a lil’ tense Rome, I hope that ain’t my doin’?” Mama’s voice had returned to its previous level of innocent civility, though there was a knowing light that flickered in her eyes. “That must be nice when she comes to visit ya, what a very obliging girl. She evah tell you she was a dancer? Well," Mama paused, smiling slowly, "I guess you woulda figured that one out for yourself." Mama had cottoned on quickly to that beautiful part of Thimble when she realized just how flexible the bitch could be. God, those legs, those legs were to die for.

As Mama spoke two of her girls detached themselves from the bleachers and made their way over to Rome. “I gotta confess, as a completely objective third party observer, I'm a little concerned. I know ya'll were close and what not, but if she's only visitin' ya to chat...well she ain't really with you, you know, treatin' you the way you deserve to be treated Rome.” The girls wound themselves about him, cooing as they touched his arms and chest.

“Prison is a lonely place Rome, but it don’t gotta be. Let me help you. No, let them help you.” Mama tilted her head to the side and smiled slowly, orchestrating the situation with a mere infliction of her accented words. One of the girls, a slender, pale young woman with straight brown hair and doe eyes – Mama had specifically chosen her for the few characteristics she shared with Thimble – gently touched the side of Rome’s face with a delicate hand, drawing his attention to her. Her thumb caressed his cheek intimately. Her body was pressed lightly against his own, and she felt his breath stir her hair as her small breasts brushed against his chest. She lent forward still further till their foreheads touched and her lips hovered so tantalizingly close to his. "Rome..." His name, whispered from her sweet lips, was done in a perfect mimicry of Thimble's soft voice. The other girl, a curvy Hispanic, began to deliver feather light kisses along his neck and nip lightly at his ear.

Well, if he hadn’t been tense before, he’d most certainly be feeling some kind of tension now.

[Rome]

[Looooove Mama’s new avvie, love!]

Mama had had Abby first. She’d plucked that shy and dreamy-eyed girl right out of the pool of fresh fish, and she’d destroyed that person as brutally as anyone possibly could have. She’d perhaps done more damage than any other prisoner in Fox River could have. He hated her for that. He hated Mama for the fingerprints she’d left on Abby’s psyche and her body. He hated her for doing more to his girl than any big man with rough hands or a sharp shank could have managed. He hated her for being able to see right through him to know that he hated her for all of that, and more than anything else he hated her because he’d known Abby’s name long before he’d ever come to hear it.

He said nothing in response. For once in his life, he had no quick comeback for the simple statement that now infested the air between them. It was irritating, like a gnat fluttering right in front of your eyes and no amount of swatting would make it go away. God, he fucking hated her.

The real sharp stab followed soon after those sickening moments of silence. There was no possible way to hide the surprise that hit him as his eyes narrowed and his brows lifted. His jaw even dropped a bit, lips parted. His features were a picture of a man taken aback, confused and vaguely disbelieving. If possible, his hatred soared to new levels, though he couldn’t feel it yet underneath the shock of what he’d just been informed. “She told ya that she was a dancer?” The innuendo and implication that followed was ignored for the bigger picture. Rome had always had a better grasp of the bigger picture, details eluded him. Normally, one so perverted wouldn’t have escaped him, especially when it came to his Abby, but the bigger picture in this particular case was deeply important. He’d only just learned that his girl used to dance. It had been a shock to hear, it had been a pleasant experience to hear her ramble on about a pair of fucking ballet slippers among other things that he knew absolutely nothing about. It made him feel sick to know that Mama had gotten all of that before him too. And Abby rambled in the same way? No wonder Mama had wanted her so damn much.

His attentions only briefly drifted to watch the girls that approached him. His mind was still firmly rooted on the notion that this secret Abby had guarded so fiercely from him had been shared with Mama. Hell, all of her secrets were probably things Mama already knew. Five years with her and he still knew so little about her life, and Mama was able to drop tidbits like they should be public knowledge. Her serpentine words dropped at his periphery, deceptively kind and unbelievably bitchy. He began to drift back to a place outside of his thoughts as sweetly feminine hands reached out to stroke up the muscles of his arms and over the hard plane of his chest.

Underneath their ministrations he couldn’t move. A frown darkened his normally grinning features as he focused on them. He could feel each point where they pressed seductively against him, friendly in a way that imprisoned men could only hope for – or pay for. The girl in front of him was small, a dainty brunette with large eyes and a wonderfully soft touch. The way she stroked his cheek was kind, affectionate and endearing. She had eyes like Abby’s, and hair too. She encouraged him down until their foreheads touched and he could feel her breath against his lips. He closed his eyes, his frown now a crease in his brow as she said his name. It was a whisper, soft and sweet, and he could almost imagine that Abby was the one guiding him along.

And wound against him on the other side, the other woman teased her kisses along the heated stretch of his neck and playfully nipped at his ear. Naturally, his body stirred in response to so much stimulation, physical and mental. He wasn’t a man to turn down the advances of pretty women. He liked sex as much as the next active person.

But he couldn’t forget that friendly women like these were things only imprisoned men could hope for pay for.

And Mama was definitely a beast that didn’t give anything for free.

Sucking in a deep breath to hold in his lungs, he pulled his head away from the brunette that held none of the sweet innocence his Abby had, bringing his hands up to grip her arms to move her away. And he let her go so he could shrug his shoulder enough to dislodge the other woman off of him, stepping aside and looking back to Mama, pointing a finger at her. “I ain’t payin’ for this.” He warned, dismissing the girls as easily as he dismissed their madam in turn, moving to step away and hopefully ditch the bleachers entirely. It had been a mistake to honour the woman’s summon and come over. It had been a mistake to let her offer tempt him even as much as it had, regardless of its failure. He knew better. Mama was not a generous creature. Nothing was free, a philosophy proven in spades where the Southerner was concerned, and he was not to be put in that woman’s debt. Ever. Not if he ever hoped to leave Fox River intact.

[Mama]

Mama smirked slowly at Rome’s horrified words; her wicked mouth curling and her teeth plunging into the flesh of her lower lip. She would not respond to that demand. Let him suffer in her silence, let him wonder what she knew: what treats his Abby might have given him already belonged to her. She hoped it would keep him up at night.

Thimble had arrived at Fox River at the youthful age of nineteen; nervous, tender, and ripe for the plucking. She had been hustled into Mama’s cell with tears in those startling hazel eyes, and all it took were a few comforting words from the Southern snake, a comforting touch, and the girl was spilling her guts. She was a lost child, the world she had known and understood being snatched from her so violently – it was little wonder that she had been such easy prey for the experienced older woman. Thimble had told Mama everything. Every detail big and small that had shaped her very life and being was regurgitated, stumbling fearfully from her quivering lips as if she could rid herself of the heavy guilt she bore simply by exposing everything. And Mama knew just how to win the frightened girl over. She gave that sweet soul who starved for acceptance and forgiveness the promise of unbounded love. A love that could replace that of a mother’s and best friends’. A love that brought acceptance no matter the crime; that protected and comforted and soothed the wounds of loss and shame. In prison your crew was your family, and Thimble so badly needed her family then. A pocket hadn’t seemed like such a large price. Mama always won in the end.

The Southern madam watched her Girls work their magic over Rome, and she delighted in the responses they were receiving. She leant forward from her throne, watching the titillating touches with glittering, hooded eyes. She would be the first to admit that she was disappointed when Roman pulled away; shrugging back from her Girls to point a warning finger in her direction.

“I ain’t payin’ for this.”

Mama smirked again, leaving her gaze on him while she crooked a finger at the two young women, summoning them back to the bleachers. They obeyed immediately like the good bitches Mama knew them to be. “But you want to,” she murmured to him in return.

Mama hadn’t truly expected Rome to fall for that plan of seduction and debt, but it was still an option she had been more than willing to try. Now she simply wanted him mad, madder than hell and reckless too. What with all the guards around she wanted him to lose it, and not just a little, she wanted him to be consumed by his anger so when he snapped and those guards dragged his pretty rear to the SHU, he’d earn himself at least a couple of broken bones with that mouth of his. This was the beginning. Mama wanted to use this one act to weaken him and then her Girls would be on him constantly, harrying, bullying, beating, making sure he didn’t get a moments rest; breaking him down bit by bit. It would take time but that was the one thing you could afford in prison. Mama could just imagine the look on Thimble’s face when she saw those handsome features blackened and distorted, ugly beyond belief. The Southern woman wondered vaguely if the small girl would cry; if fat, piteous tears would slip down those pale cheeks for her little friend because she would believe it was all her fault. Mama knew how the bitch’s mind worked, it was just such a shame that she wouldn’t be able to see the whole scene unfold for herself.

His dismissal of her Girls put a curious idea in the Southern woman’s mind. It centred largely around the tenderness with which he had responded to the young woman who resembled Thimble, and as the idea turned into a realization the Southern woman couldn’t hold back a short burst of laughter. That Texan smart ass, for all his fast talking ways, couldn’t talk his way into Thimble’s pants.

As Rome turned away Mama pouted theatrically, lifting her drawling voice. “Oh now, you ain’t leavin’ so soon are ya? I ain’t nearly done with you yet Cherub.” Mama paused, wondering if the familiar nickname would give him cause enough to stop. “Y’know, I got a theory about you. I reckon all those years you an’ Thimble was cell mates you neveh got a ride…So tell me somethin’: did Thimble eveh get nightmares? I mean real nasty ones. The kind where she’d wake up screamin’ and shakin’? And of course you, bein’ the gen’leman ya’re, would invite her on inta bed beside you, ain’t that right?”

She rose slowly from her wooden thrown and descended like a queen. Her hips moved with a familiar sway as she stalked toward Rome, her dark gaze predatory. “That must’a been real nice, lyin’ so close to such a warm body, but you neveh made a move did ya Cherub? I bet you considered it though. Honestly now, don’t tell me ya neveh thought about how sweet those lips would taste against your own. Don’t tell me you were neveh tempted to take a gander undeh her blouse; play with those perky tits. And don’t tell me ya neveh popped a hard one when that tight little ass rubbed against you.” Mama stopped in front of him, standing close enough to count his long lashes. She cocked her head to the side and smirked slowly, her carrying Southern tones dropping to a husky purr.

“I bet you wanted to do alllllll them things, right Cherub? I bet you thought about her legs - s’cuse me, her dancers legs - wrapped around you. Mmhmm I bet you wanted to fuck. her. stupid.”

[Rome]

He always had the last word and that was, in many cases, his downfall. He could have gotten away. For anyone else, it’d have been nothing at all to ignore the taunt and keep on walking, but Rome was most certainly nobody else but himself and it wasn’t nothing. Like a cruel shackle wrapping firmly about his retreating figure, that ridiculous fucking nickname – Cherub – brought him to an abrupt halt, hazel eyes rolling up with exasperation and seething temper. Reluctantly, guarded walls as firmly erect as he could make them, he turned enough that he could look back to her, gaze narrowed suspiciously on her as she spoke, jaw tensing more and more with each Southern drenched word.

Mama’s stay in the men’s wing of the prison had been relatively brief, lasting throughout the course of his relationship with Thimble and ending fairly quickly after Abby’s release. In all of that time, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever gotten a firm grasp of her location within the ward and, if he had, he couldn’t recall it now. Had she had a vantage point to see into their cell? Because she spoke with absolute accuracy. The nightmares would have been common knowledge to a point. Everyone in the male wing would have heard that quiet girl screaming as she plunged out of her nightmare world, sweating and shaking and petrified of monsters that he could guess the faces of but would never truly know anything about. Surely she’d have had to see into the small cube of a room to know everything that followed, the way he’d encourage her into his bunk and whisper to her about anything that popped into his head until she drifted safely back off to sleep.

He straightened as she descended the bleachers, facing her more fully and pulling up to take advantage of every inch that towered over. He felt wary, a small mouse in the path of a hungry feline and stuck in place by a ridiculously oversized sense of pride. He should still be walking; he’d have made it back to his place at the fence by now. Instead, he was still right there, listening to her prattle on about all of the things that he didn’t want to hear and not just because there might have been moments where they’d have been true.

Sickness bubbled in his gut and he could taste it in his mouth as he stared down at her face, obscenities dripping casually from her forked tongue. He’d been provoked by her enough times that it shouldn’t have been difficulty to see it happening, but he felt blind. Deaf and dumb too, really – and not just dumb in the mute sense. He felt completely and utterly idiotic, struck by the crude images she sought to set with her rough purr and ugly smirk. Hatred fueled the stiff pound of his heart and he wasn’t entirely sure he was breathing in that moment. So wrapped up in the things she spouted, he didn’t notice the tight clench of his fists at his side, knuckles white and joints sore. They quivered, even while everything else about him was stone steady, tensed and unbelievably rigid for the otherwise loose Texan.

”Mmhmm, I bet you wanted to fuck. her. stupid.”

Like a spring, he suddenly lunged forward, released from a coil to throw his arms out and shove at her. It was a harsh shove, forceful and angry, enough to hopefully knock her back a few steps and straight to the ground.

[Mama]

Mama wished she had a camera to record the many flickering emotions that played across Roman's face. First it was anger: barely controlled, not at all hidden - and then hatred, and finally rage. Oh how that emotion took hold of him; it was such a visible thing Mama could see it sweeping though him, burning in his hazel eyes; wild, brutal, violent rage. She barely had time to protect herself as he reacted suddenly, lunging forward visciously. Mama felt the hard impact of his rough hands on her shoulders, shoving her with enough force that she almost felt lifted from her feet.

The Southern woman stumbled back a few steps, her balance comprimised by the harsh push, and she dropped to the ground. Her backside connected with the hard, dry earth with a thump, driving the air from her in a gentle 'oof'. She raised herself immediatly in case Rome decided to continue his attack. One rule in a fight: never go down, that's asking for death. Her Girls on the bleachers were on their feet, a few of them calling out in alarm and anger. Without taking her eyes from Rome, Mama raised a hand to silence them. She made a show of calmly brushing herself off, theatrically plucking at an invsibile speck. Beneath that flippant exterior excitment and anger threaded through her quivering muscles.

"Well now, is that really all ya got?" Mama's tongue darted across her lower lip. She could almost feel the eyes of the guards boring into their two aggressive figures. Just a little more; one more mistake like that on his part and she would have him exactly where she wanted him. Mama gave the barest of smirks; a wolfen grin with clenched teeth. "Maybe ya gettin' soft Cherub. Gonna have ta work on that, Thimble don't like'em gentle." Her dark eyes glittered and she gave a short bark of harsh laughter. "Believe me, I'd be the one ta know. Funny ain't it, how the quiet ones are always the loudest in bed. Oh Cherub, you shoulda heard how ya little girl squealed."

[Well it's shorter than the other ones, but I still have to apologise for two things. 1) Sorry it took so long!!! and 2) for it's vileness! Mama is truely disgusting lol :S]

[Rome]

There was a vague sense of satisfaction untwisting in his stomach at the sight of Mama on the ground, a pride in the knowledge that he’d put her there, but it was quickly shattered when she popped right back up to her feet. Quite easily – too easily – he could imagine what it’d take to keep her on the ground. He could picture fists and bruises. In his simple and uneducated brain, he could calculate what forces would be required behind the strength of a punch or a kick and he could assume how many blows would be needed until she wouldn’t move again. He trembled, he tightened his jaw and held his breath. The taste of sickness swelled up in his mouth once more and the sensation was directed at himself, at this ugly train of thought that he was as powerless to stop as he was of the crude things that continued to drip from her tongue.

He’d never hit a woman before. At least, before her, he’d never hit a woman. He’d never even imagined it, not even years ago when he’d found out that his girlfriend of some months had been cheating on him with his best friend. Of course, he’d been able to leave then – and leaving now was no longer an option, if it ever had been. Leaving was never an option in prison. There wasn’t too far to go before a path was brought to a halt by fences and guards and walking away from confrontation wasn’t considered ‘taking the higher ground’, it was considered being a pussy. So he was rooted to the spot, stubborn out of pride and rising fury and utter stupidity.

It was all of that that kept him oblivious to the watchful eyes on them. There was a roar in his eyes, but her words were loud and clear. He’d never been the best when it came to self-control. Five years with Thimble had taught him, had improved him, but it had not made him perfect. He was shoving across the space between him and Mama before his brain could even catch up with the notion that he’d moved. His hands were darting up so his fingers could curl into the fabric of her shirt and he was shoving her with every intent of throwing her back to the ground. This time though, he went down with her. His knees smacked clumsily against the dirt as he pushed her and fell, but he was balanced on them as quickly as he could manage, straddling her trim figure to pin her – and his hands were rising to her throat, scrambling for a hard grip and deaf to the noise around him. He’d choke the fucking life out of her and watch her touch Abby then.