"Hey there, baby girl." Her cellmate, who was named Dylan, leaned in. He smelled of anchovies and rats. Sure, maybe Junko had smelled similarly at one point, but he was a totally different case.
"What do you want, weirdo?"
He grinned. "Oh, I only wanted to know what you were in for. Too beautiful?"
Junko had met five year olds with better pickup lines.
"Why don't you shut up? Or do you want your face to be as red as your hair?"
Dylan, obviously surprised, reeled back and shut his mouth. Finally, she could plot in peace.
After 30 minutes of plotting, Junko finally had an idea. But she would need somebody else to pitch in.
That somebody was Dylan.
