Staff Kitchen Saturdays

[raven]

Every other day of the week, when the inmates were tame enough and Addison healthy enough, Addison would brave the prison food and eat lunch in the cafeteria with the inmates. She felt it built a sense of oneness between prison guards and inmates, as well as trust. And while some days it ended in disaster, Addison found in her five years of experience that more often than not the inmates just wanted an ear. Not bitten or severed, mind you - the kind good for listening. But every Saturday Addison would give her stomach a rest and enjoy a fresh meal in the staff kitchen. Today was tuna fish and avocado sandwiches, a personal all-time favorite of Addy's.

The ginger hummed to the tune of Scarborough Fair as she prepared the tuna fish, cracking and peeling boiled eggs before dicing them finely and mixing them into her tuna and mayo mixture. She added a dash of salt and pepper and finally some relish before giving it a taste test. Happy with it, Addison spread the tuna over a fluffy loaf of bread and added generous avocado chunks before topping it off with the second loaf.

With sandwich in one hand and a canned orange soda in the other, Addison made her way to the tables, settling at an empty one not far away from a few other prison guards.

[winters]

Veronica Lee Winters hadn't been on the staff very long, but she had been elsewhere, and she would treat the prison inmates just as she would any patient anywhere. Despite what people might have thought about her rather embracing personality, she did actually care about her patients -- though she did in fact refer to them as "patients" rather than "clients." Her methods might have been a little more direct and a lot less friendly than those of conventional motivation, but she was still very able to get the job done.

She didn't care about trust. Yes, Veronica honoured the patient-therapist confidentiality agreement, but being confided in was not the same as confiding in others; the last group of people she would confide in were prisoners. She also didn't take out of her time to make conversation with the other prison staff, but she did ask questions that usually pertained to the inmates. Otherwise, she kept to her own stature, reading novels, studying patient files, researching useful information on the Internet ... The thirty-year-old believed in tactfulness, wisdom, resourcefulness, and pitied procrastination of any kind.

Like any other non-afflicted human being, though, Veronica was drawn to eating. She refused to eat in the prisoners' cafeteria, and while she preferred to have food made by people she actually knew, the woman didn't mind the staff arrangements. The environment was somewhat friendlier than she really would have cared for, and the food was at least edible, so she truly didn't mind. This happened to be where Veronica came when she suddenly had an appetite. With a notepad and pen in one hand, she grabbed an apple - as she was vegetarian and considered fish to be meat - before proceeding to a table. Today was the perfect day to question the other staff.

"Are there any inmates on which I should keep a ken eye?" she asked clearly, sitting down on the other side of the table from the woman, who appeared to be a prison guard, as though they were the best of pals.

Veronica had worn a simple green tee-shirt and a pair of blue jeans today. Her wavy, yellow blonde hair, as per usual, flowed freely, and her bangs were pushed out of her blue-green eyes. Her friendly expression was about as genuine as the false smile that spread her light red lips, but still it looked normal.

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[raven]

"Are there any inmates on which I should keep a keen eye?"

Addison startled somewhat at the sound of Veronica's voice, eyes darting to put a face to the question. "I'm sorry?" she asked hesitantly, looking first left, then right for any other officer in reasonable speaking distance with Veronica. There were none. As Veronica slid in the seat across from her, Addison concluded that she was indeed the target of Veronica's out-of-the-blue inquiry.

"O-oh, well," Addison nibbled her bottom lip, looking up at the ceiling in thought as if it held the answers. "There was a new girl who was transferred here about a week ago. Real jittery - file says she's a cocaine addict. Anyway, as you can imagine coming down from her addiction," Addison paused mid-sentence, catching herself. She gave an apologetic shrug to Veronica, followed by, "Well, I mean, not to say you're a drug addict or . . ." She faded off, frowning before continuing as if nothing happened. "She was aggressive towards some of the lifers and regulars her first few days. That didn't help her make any new friends, but we've moved her to solitary for the duration of her detox. Still, when she's moved back on to the block, she may meet some hostility. I'd watch her in the future, at least until she gets adjusted, anyway. Name was . . . Rita So- . . . saaa . . . Oh! Rita Somalt." Addison nodded firmly as if confirming her word before taking a swig from her soda can.

Did she know this woman before her? Sure, she had seen Veronica about. Addison made it a point to commit faces to memory any time a new staff member found themselves on the staff board. She felt it made the work place that much more enjoyable. But Addison was almost certain she had never spoken one-on-one with the older woman before.

"Veronica, right? Veronica Winters?" Addison asked, dabbing her lips dry of any excess soda and food crumbs, having polished off the rest of her sandwich in the brief moment of silence between the two. "I'm Addison. It's nice to have a new psychologist in town. A lot of my girls complained about abuse from the one whose position you filled. Hopefully they're warming up to you alright." Addison thought best not to offer her hand to shake, what with Veronica's apple and all. Instead, she offered a friendly smile.

[Connor Hogan]

N O T E S

Hope you two don't mind me popping in [/center]

Even though it was a Saturday, Connor was working. He worked just about 24/7 it seemed, and spent most of his time, even his free time, in the prison. He was really dedicated to his job, as he really didn't have anything else. Most of the time Connor got abused by the inmates, especially since he wasn't as tough as the other guards. Well, he could be tough and rough and mean, but that usually came after an inmate had punched him. Connor didn't like the inmates, as he hated criminals, and that's what they were. Every now and then Connor would come across a criminal he put in jail, and the memory of the crime they did, and what Connor had to do to put them there would come across his mind, and he would get pissed again. And if the inmate saw him, and recognized him, there would be a fight. But Connor tried avoiding that. So he did his job with little emotion, unless an inmate, like they did most every day, would attack him in some way. But that Saturday was a bit different, as Connor had avoided any injury. Well, most injury. Earlier that day an inmate had decided to break free from the inmate crowd, run at Connor who was back to, and slam him into a wall. The inmate was quickly grabbed by the other guards, and Connor was able to walk away with just a scratch on his forehead, and a headache.

But that was the reason why he decided to eat in the staff kitchen. Sometimes he ate there, sometimes he didn't. Most of the time he was needed in the cafeteria though, so that's where he ate. But not wanting to get attacked again, even if it was a mild one, he decided to head into the staff kitchen to eat. "Stupid inmates. Why the hell can't they just leave me alone?" Connor mumbled to himself as he walked down the hall, and towards the staff kitchen. He had expected it to be empty, as it seemed to usually be whenever Connor had a chance to go there. But as he opened the door, he saw two woman already sitting at the table. He only had a chance to glimpse at them though, as his legs seemed to get weak for some odd reason; probably the clumsy disease he seemed to think he had. As Connor's legs collapsed, so did he. He managed to hang onto the door handle though, as he fell onto the ground. Connor growled for a moment as he used the door handle to lift himself up. Once he was done, he slowly looked at the two women. "Oh. Uh. Clumsy legs" He explained as he slowly walked past them to the refrigerator.

Once Connor got to the refrigerator, he tried to ignore the two women as he looked around for something to eat. He shuffled things around in the refrigerator, and finally was able to find a leftover salad. He had no idea who's it was, but it didn't look very old. "Well, I guess this will work" He said as he grabbed a fork, and stuck it in the salad. He wasn't a big fan of salads, but he hadn't been able to find anything that seemed to be edible. Unless he cooked something, which he didn't want to do. The salad already had dressing in it, which was why Connor figured it had already been touched. But that didn't bother him, as it was at least something to eat. Connor pulled the fork out, which carried a bunch of lettuce, and a tomato, with a bunch of whatever dressing it was, on it. Connor then stuffed it into his mouth, and began chewing it. It took him a few seconds to realize he really didn't like the salad. Connor quickly spit the salad back out into the container, and tossed the container of salad away. "That was gross" He said mainly to himself. It was then that he noticed the two women again. "Oh. Uh. Hey. I was just.. uh.. looking for something to eat. But uh, I didn't find much." He said as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and walked up by the table, but not sitting at it.

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W O R D-C O U N T
7 0 2

M O O D

tired[/center]

[winters]

As a side note, the first thing Veronica did was scribble things along the side of her notebook about this woman seated across from her, especially about her awkward conversation-making, regardless of whether the woman actually was awkward when it came to conversations. The psychologist had taken no offence from the comments the guard made, and as she was already smiling, it wasn't hard to hide her amusement. Her -- do drugs? Veronica spent too much time trying to stay healthy to even consider drugs, let alone looking as though she inhaled them recreationally. That was absurd.

The next thing she wrote was the girl's name, adding one simple word beside it: cocaine. Veronica was only thirty, but she had studied behaviour and physical outcomes from stupid decisions practically her entire life. She had always been a curious thing, and truthfully, she herself was probably a producer of curiosity.

Her eyes almost snapped toward the door at the sounds the man was making, and she rolled her eyes. Honestly? There were many things she would have liked to say - sarcastic, rude things - but she knew better than to voice them. Don't say anything if you can't say something nice. It was a sad principle to live by, but Veronica did live by it. Instead, her gaze fixated itself back upon the other person as she tried to recall the psychologist's name.

"Veronica, right? Veronica Winters?"

Veronica nodded once. "Yes," she responded, and as the other woman introduced herself, she scribbled "Addison" above the notes she had made on the sideline. The thirty-year-old had heard things about the previous psychologist, but while she was a very curious being, she hadn't lost any sleep over prying into the previous person's life. "I can't make any promises," she said jokingly, "but I suppose I can try my best." Make small talk, she thought, coaching herself. Check.

"Oh. Uh. Hey. I was just.. uh.. looking for something to eat."

She hadn't really paid attention before, but Veronica glanced at him now, examining him. Perhaps she would interview him later in the same way she interviewed this Addison. "Fruit is nice," she said matter-of-factly, holding up her own apple and taking a bite out of it.

[/blockquote]