The Courtyard [closed]

I narrowed my eyes to near slits, watching as the other man moved about. What was the reason for this, for how he was acting, and more importantly, why did it all strike me as supremely unnerving? It was like this guy was just toying with me, and it was... off. Something was off.

When he spoke I let out a sharp breath of a sigh, rolling my eyes. "Not bad?" I pulled my shirt back down, brow raised. "You better fucking believe they're not bad. Better than not bad." Clearly, as I'd got them permanently emblazoned on my body. But his change in mood made me cock my head.

"... What? You okay?" I asked, more making sure for my sake than his. I didn't want him to flip out on me - I didn't need that right now.

"Peachy," He replied with a dimpled smile. Cheer up, Matthew, there was always tomorrow. "I get to feeling nauseous sometimes. Nothing to worry about." Lies, lies, lies.

He eyeballed the orderly he had labeled as Aaron (whatever his name really was didn't matter) as he was checking his watch. Matthew assumed his time was almost up. How it all flew by while sitting in the sun and actually talking to someone that didn't care or know about all the shit in his past. "I might want a tattoo across the back of my shoulders. What kind of things do you need to do that?" His gaze flicked back to Jiho. His expression openly said that it was possible for Matthew to get whatever was needed, whether through brute force or manipulation as Matthew had an uncanny talent for lying.

"Time's up, Parker," boomed Aaron's voice as he advanced upon the bench. Matthew sighed and took his dear sweet time gathering his box of crayons complete with hidden pencil. He winked knowingly at Jiho.

"Listen, Jiho, what room number are you? You know, in case I need... pointers," He drummed his fingertips on the top of the notebook for emphasis. In reality it would be nice to know in case Jiho had something, anything that was of value to him. Something besides that stumpy, blunt pencil, in which he was still thankful for. The man wasn't a klepto by any means, Jiho might only have to worry about pens or paperclips going missing if he even had any.

He didn't look peachy... But I understood the nausea thing, at least. At the tattoo talk I blinked, thinking for a second. What did I need to do a tattoo? Well, it depended on if we were talking about a legitimate one or a shitty prison tattoo, which I was definitely not a fan of. I pursed my lips.

"Well, a tattoo gun and ink," I said, opening my mouth to continue when the orderly's voice boomed into the picture and I looked up, watching as the other man cleaned up. If he could get me a tattoo gun I would be impressed. But there was probably a one-hundred percent chance that he couldn't. Besides, I needed to practice anyway.

At the question, I pointed toward the third floor in my building, though I questioned my idea almost immediately. Oh well, too late now.

"314," I said simply, shrugging.