Gabe was laying in his bed when Etienne came by.

Etienne was the name of the muscle-man that had saved his skin outside the showers. He was a household name within the twisted suburbia of the prison. He’d been around a while.

He was built like a boxer and had the voice of a high-schooler on the verge of breaking, Oddly, he kept to himself. People didn’t mess with him because he had nothing to take and he was too big to intimidate.

Etienne liked to read. The books Gabe saw him with were usually with titles like “The Wealthy Greek’s Contract Wife” or “The Italian’s Virgin Acquisition” and never had more than a hundred pages to them. Gabe found that bizarre but never questioned it. He also had an extremely juvenile sense of humor, like farting for an audience, which was as annoying as it was perplexing

In addition to keeping Martinez from killing him, Etienne had helped Gabe bulk up at the gym and sparred with him so he became a better fighter with fewer injuries. In return, all he asked for was a steady supply of gumdrops. It seemed to be enough.

Without ever discussing it, Etienne and Gabe had become partners. They sat together at lunch and worked out together. Etienne was always in the background, watching for trouble and ready to provide reinforcement if needed. If someone wanted to fight but wasn’t on good terms with Gabe, they went to Etienne. Etienne didn’t complain about Gabe’s loud-mouthed showboating. He had a reputation by association now. They made a good team, one that could only really be formed in the heat and pressure of fighting in the arena. Not one of ropes and canvas, but of concrete and barbed wire. There was no referee or bell here.

“Heard you sent another guy to the infirmary,” Etienne said to him snidely. Gabe didn’t bother to look at him.

“He needs to learn to pick better prey.”

“He’s only twenty.”

Gabe made a dramatic pout. “Poor baby.”

Etienne wheezed a reedy laugh. “It’s almost like you enjoy it.”

“Not as much as I’d enjoy a glazed donut, Etienne. And that’s the honest-to-God truth.”

The banter followed a familiar formula. It was as close as Gabe was willing to get to anyone in this hole, even Etienne. He reached under his pillow and tossed Etienne a packet the size of his palm. Etienne caught it easily.

“Score!” He crowed. Etienne and his gumdrops. It was weird, buying loyalty with candy. Whatever worked, Gabe shrugged internally.

He didn’t really enjoy it; the fighting, the hurting of people. He wasn’t better at fighting than others because he was bigger, stronger or faster. . He just wanted it more. He had been on the bottom rung. He couldn’t be under anyone ever again.

“The fat fuck took me on and he lost. Now he knows his place.” Gabe said casually.

Around a gumdrop, Etienne answered, spraying dribble. Lord, the man had too much saliva.

“Where’s, that? At the end of your cock?”

Gabe rolled his eyes. “He wishes.”

“Hur, hur hur,” Etienne chuckled. His laugh sounded like words.

Gabe closed his eyes. He really would love a glazed donut though. He could smuggle himself one, but it wouldn’t be fresh. And treats like that were put to better use as bribery anyway. He smiled to himself as he calculated his odds of getting a donut past the guards. He had a better chance with a phone.