Thoughts, Prayers, Sweeps and Stares

“If by ‘this’ you mean the book, go for it. I mean, if you want to prep her on it before we turn it in that’s totally fine. I don’t see why we’d make it a secret.”

The son of Securitas got up and returned to his side of the room, resuming his shakedown of pillows.

“But if you’re talking about getting her approval for the phone,” Dean added, “then, yeah, sure — I was going to do that, but okay.”

Lifting up one of the mattresses, he was able to find a few dime bags of pot and a wad of $50 bills tucked in an exposed spring. He took the contraband, set it aside and wrote down the offender’s bunk number.

“I mean, it’s up to you,” Dean replied, clearing another bunk. No contraband in this mattress. “I had my shot and decided not to call her, so... yeah.”

It was not that Dean want to start some drama, but between the inflammatory content of the book and his disdain for Skye’s current state of existence, the son of Securitas could not help but be an ass reagarding the one point of conflict the pair currently had. She already “won” the battle of contacting Lily, so anything after the fact was only Dean being sour.

Dean was poking at a top bunk when Skye put him on the spot.

He looked over his shoulder at the Centurion who was his senior except for age and years served. The offended scowl on his face, even if obscured, was the only communication he gave for what felt like a solid minute. In his mind raced excuse after excuse, hoping to try and find an answer that would suffice without making the thing more of a thing.

Directly saying “I hate the way you live your life” would be cruel and too confrontational, and hinging too much on her being late would be a weak leg to stand on — it was annoying, but not enough to keep up an attitude. But there was always Ready...

“Well,” he finally said as he faced Skye with an apologetic tone, “I just really think we need to go after Finn with all we have. I mean, you said he was harassing some girls on the way over here — he made you late by being a creep, and now we have his book. He is a predator in the making and we need to stop him. Rights or not, that phone is the key to getting the evidence we need to guarantee that he doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

“Oh,” Basilone retorted, “I’m serious about Finn being the Roman Dhamer or something. I just think Lily has better things to do than arbitrate a godsdamn debate about what we can and cannot search.”

Maddox was certainly hitting a chord, shelling the hill of half-truths Basilone chose to lie on. But he was not going to just straight up say ”Jupiter Maximus Maddox, can you just f*** off and die with the rest of your damn quest” like the phrase had the same level of consequences when either spoken or thought.

“It just looks pathetic, running to the Praetors for something like that. Hence why I didn’t call.”

“Alright.”

Absolved of all shame (then again it was his idea in the first place), Dean whipped his phone back out and began constructing a text for Lily.

Hello,
I am sorry to bother you, but centurion Maddox and I have run into a problem while inspecting the Fifth and would like your opinion on how to proceed. After finding evidence of cameras installed in the bathrooms by one of the legionnaires we have come to an impasse regarding whether or not we are allowed to seize the phone of the suspected offender. This is an issue we are both passionate about since the privacy of legionnaires is important, but we have been unable to decide on what to do with the phone. If you could provide some insight and/or opinions on the issue, it would be beyond appreciated.

Best regards,
Dean Basilone

He hit the send button and slid the phone back into his pocket.

“Well, there’s that. What now?”