I'm really just asking to leave
Gerard was now officially thoroughly curious about Frank's past.
He knew he really shouldn't be- it was likely petty and unimportant, especially compared to the things he had done. And yet...it couldn't hurt to wonder a little, could it?
But he didn't press. Gerard never pressed, unless it was a knife into a victim's body. You see, he'd found that patience was, indeed, a virtue, and could be used to accomplish the most un-virtuous of things. That was why he loved time so much, because Gerard Way had learned that to wisely utilize a few minutes could save- or destroy- multiple lives.
And so, as with everything, he would be patient about this until the proper moment arose, or Frank decided to tell him himself.
And given the silly boy's confused affection towards him, that might be happening sooner rather than later.
Gerard found himself falling into the daily life of a death row inmate surprisingly easily. It wasn't a rigorous schedule, he supposed, waking up early to sirens, being served a very cold, very bland breakfast, and, depending on what day of the month it was, being sent to the solitary exercise cell, or the SEC. As far as exercise went, it wasn't much. But it gave Gerard time away from irritating Frank, and it gave him time to think.
And as we all know, time was very valuable to Gerard.
Since Gerard went to SEC on even days of the month and Frank on odd, and today was the 21st of June, so it was Frank's turn.
Gerard really wished that his alone time in his cell was actually alone time.
Unfortunately, there was someone named Ray, who was even more talkative than Frank.
"Hey, Gerard," he said in a stage whisper. Gerard pointedly ignored him.
"Leave him alone, Toro," came the voice of a prisoner Gerard knew as Andrews.
Ray snorted and tried again. Gerard, again, ignored the man. Everybody here was so stupid, really! It would be a relief to get out of this place, surely.
"Gerard! You've been here for a week now, how d'you like the thug life, hm?"
Gerard looked up, raising an eyebrow. "The thug life? Really?"
Ray made a confused face. "Well, yeah, wouldn't you figure that that's what we are? Thugs? Convicts, felons, what-have-you?"
Gerard sniffed imperiously. "I prefer to call myself a knight."
Ray chortled. "A knight, well mate, that's a bit high and mighty for me. What are you, a Knight of Death?"
"Precisely. Well said, Raymond."
Ray went silent. "So...you're an assassin, then."
Gerard silently berated himself. Had he given too much away? This Toro was smarter than he looked.
"Some would call me by that name," he said vaguely.
"So...you work for somebody," Ray deduced, narrowing his eyes at him.
Gerard locked his eyes onto his. "If I do," he said slowly, "and that is a very big if, then I assure you," he paused, "they are not somebody to be trifled with. Do you understand me?"
Ray didn't open his eyes fully, just kept squinting in a sort of uncomfortable way which made Gerard paranoid, made him sure that Ray knew all his secrets, which was impossible. There was no way one man could find all of his secrets- there were just too many.
But all that 'Toro' said was a quiet, "Yes."
"Good," Gerard said quickly, turning away. He could almost feel all of death row's eyes on him. "Very good."