Heather/Guard 1

{PRISON CREW} ~Some fight loud.Some don’t fight at all- & that’s worse~ Cell Block F was too quiet.Not empty.Not safe- just…held. The lights buzzed low,constant,a thin vibration settling under the skin like something waiting. Heather walked the corridor with measured steps,boots striking steady,controlled.Her black-&-purple ponytail swayed in time,precise as a metronome.Her sharp Chinese features remained unreadable,light green eyes forward,unblinking.Her elf ears angled forward,catching everything-the scrape of chains,the shift of breath,the distant clank of steel far below.Nothing slipped past her.Not here.Not ever. They called her “The Iron Hand.” Not because she was cruel-but because nothing bent her.& quieter,behind her back- “that quiet lil guard.” The one who didn’t raise her voice.The one who already knew when you lied.She felt it now.A flicker under her skin.Something wrong. Her steps slowed.Then stopped.At the end of the block-a figure leaned against the wall,too relaxed for a place like this.Hands in pockets.Shadows didn’t sit right around them.They pulled.They bent-like they were listening. Heather’s stance shifted.Not fear.Readiness.Her fingers brushed near her pistol-not reaching.Just remembering.c“Warden.” Her voice was level,polite-steel under silk. The figure smiled.Slow.Unreadable. “Good evening,Heather.” Too calm.The kind that made the air colder . “You don’t usually walk this block,” she said. Their head tilted,unhurried-but something in the corridor seemed to follow the motion. “I was visiting my sibling.” Soft.Too soft. Her truth-sense flared-sharp,immediate.Sibling.The word sat wrong under her skin.There was only one person in Block F.She didn’t look away. “Everything’s under control,” they added.That made it worse.The silence tightened.The shadows at her feet shifted,subtle but wrong. Heather didn’t move.But she didn’t step back either.