Moses Damiri

Dan, the guard, had been sent out after De León to fetch the other newcomer. He'd been gone for a while, so he figured they'd be back soon. He knew Dan wouldn't go easy on him, but that was just part of the fun. Watching their pissed off faces as they were lead into the room after being harshly handled. Some tended to act as if nothing had happened. That in itself, that reaction, told him a lot about them.
He closed the files and folded his hands on the table as he heard footsteps outside. Welcome to Hell, Damiri.

Smiling all the time was a tedious business, especially since one's facial muscles got tired of it sooner or later, so Moses refrained from constantly pulling his lips in a sneer. Whereas appearing like a mad maniac had its nice sides, it was better to keep a straight face until he knew what the situation called for. No need to tire himself out beforehand.
Yet his mouth couldn't help but twitch slightly as several comments on the rather rough treatment went through his head. He enjoyed them in silence, leaving the faintest traces of a smile on his features as he sat down, briefly studying the man before him. Ex-military? Possible, possible, but far from certain. So this was the one at the top of the foodchain in the world he had gotten himself in? Would do. The criminal folded his hands in his lap, deciding to remain quiet for a bit longer.

This one seemed to stay quiet as opposed to the previous man. Not that he was surprised, most of them tended not to speak before having to, and having read his file he had already expected this outcome. He knew his type, as he'd seen it so many times before. Quiet before snapping.
"Your prisoner number is U44968," he said, going straight to facts. "That will serve as your name during your stay, so I will not tolerate you forgetting it." Not that he'd have a chance to ever forget it when he was done with him.
"You will be placed in the C Division, cell 4, where you will be served one meal a day that you will have to share with your cellmate."

Serious face, a fair share of secrets and an undoubtedly unhealthy sense of humour. Quite the neutral appearance, it would seem. Not enlightening, not disappointing. A lack of interest which interested? Who knew. Appearances were known to be most deceiving, after all. Dark lips pursed, the prisoner furrowed his brows. U44968 - not the most creative nickname he had ever been graced with. Not to mention he would only have one meal a day! It was surprising the inmates hadn't died of starvation yet, unless the jailers were much more generous than they seemed. An unlikely idea.
"Sharing is caring," he hummed softly, speaking for the first time since he had entered the room. "Oh, pardon me." With a sheepish smile, he raised a hand just above the tabletop, giving a slight wave as if he was a student wanting to ask a question. Quite a few questions, in fact, but perhaps the man would be unwilling to answer them. It all depended on the kind of person Moses was dealing with, no?

Korso's brow furrowed in confusion. Never before had a prisoner felt the need to raise his hand before speaking. Maybe he wasn't just psycho, perhaps he was also quite underdeveloped mentally. He didn't let it phase him, not much could surprise him in a place like this. Prisoners here could do anything. They were as unpredictable as running rabbit, and he had come to prepare himself for that.
"What?" he asked, smiling in amusement. He was like a child at school, and in the same way Korso couldn't wait to take on the teaching role.

Mentally underdeveloped? That seemed a bit of a far-fetched conclusion, based on such a fickle thing. Generally interrupting someone without their permission was considered rude, but perhaps his time in his own prison had allowed Korso's idea of good manners (whatever that might have been) to rust away. At least that was what the expression on his face seemed to say. Moses lowered his hand, eyes narrowing as his lips curled up further.
"I have some questions concerning the rules. At least, I assume there are certain things we are and are not allowed to do? If so, what is the punishment for each different offence? Or is there such a thing as an universal punishment that applies to everything? That is what I'm interested in." A short pause. "I hope I'm not overwhelming you." Oh, but surely the man was used to such?

Impatient isn't he?
"Yes, I was getting to that. You will be given one meal a day to share with your cellmate. There will be quiet after 11pm, and you will respect your authority figures and your cellmate. The punishments will vary depending on your specific situation, but I'd advice you not to test it. Any other questions?" he asked, seeing as they had gotten close to the end of their conversation. He'd need to be getting back soon as well to watch the other prisoners wake up on his monitors.

A thoughtful expression crossed his features for a moment, but it was nothing but teasing - he knew what he needed to know. Not too many rules to remember, that was nice enough. All that respect was a bit of an issue, but nothing he couldn't handle. "I believe that's about it, then," he chirped, giving a small nod. "I'm absolutely thrilled to go and view my new residence." At least it didn't seem anything particularly interesting was going to happen in the small room he was in now and boredom was such a tedious thing.

"Well, then," he said and stood up, waiting to leave as soon as the guard had escorted this prisoner out.
Dan stepped forward before Korso even had to speak up, and grabbed the prisoner harshly, while Korso only observed and grinned. "Have a nice stay," he said in a falsely pleasant tone as he watched the man being escorted out.