Belle Bonacieux

Dean sat bored waiting for the guard to bring in the first victim prisoner. He read over the woman's file: The woman killed her husband and one of her children in the middle of the night. She seriously injured one of her children, who was still in the hospital, trying to survive.

Psycho bitch... He thought, before chuckling when he read that the woman kept crying that she was innocent.

"That's what they all say..." He mumbled, before tossing the file back on the table and leaned back in his chair.

He had closed his eyes when he heard the sounds of footsteps coming to the room. When he heard the door shut behind the guard and prisoner, Dean opened one eyes. "Ah, Mrs. Bonacieux." He said, sitting up, almost acting like this was a pleasant talk between two people. He had a feeling he said her last name wrong, not like it mattered to him.

"Have a seat, will you?" He said, standing up and extending his hand to the chair that was in front of him.

Belle entered in the room, escorted by a guard.
The guard that was escorting her was looking at her with a look of strong disapproval and disgust: he had probably recognized her from the many images tv and newspapers had given of her, most likely even the new guard could recognize her.
There had been so much advertisement about her case, journalists had feasted on her misery.
She was keeping her glance low, without looking at anything in particular.
She had a different glance from how the print had showed her: there wasn't the evil look they had manipulated out of her photos, she seemed instead lost, broken, but still she was perfectly recognizable.
She didn't even care to raise it to look in his face the new guard, it didn't matter.
It all seemed so surreal…
She still hadn't recovered from the sentence… well, she still hadn't recovered from the loss of her family.
A part of her kept thinking it was all too unreal, that it had to be a dream, that she would have woken up…
But she was still there, trapped in the nightmare her life had became.
She nodded at the guard's invitation and sat down, not a word, after all what could she say?
She would have tried to explain him, to beg him to believe her, but she had done it already and nothing had happened. Almost four months of hell, and now this… everything was useless and the of the only two things that now mattered in her life one was in a bed of an hospital, unconscious, and the other one was growing in her belly, barely visible.
Nothing else mattered.
Surely not the guard in front of her...

Dean raised an eyebrow at her, before having a friendly smile form on his face. "Been a long day, huh?" He asked, wanting to see if he could get some kind of response. He kept his tone friendly.

"I'll start off by telling you your number, which is B05443; you'll need to remember that, because your name will hardly be used here." He said, watching her.

"You'll be in cell block B, cell number 1." He informed her, reading the information off of the files. "You will be getting two meals a day, which you will have to share with your cellmate. Also, we'll be moving you from cell to cell from time to time, just to give you a different experience, different cellmate and different guard every now and then." He said, casually.

She didn't answer to his first question, it wasn't necessary and she knew he wasn't really interested.
She was barely aware he was being friendly, but, once again, she was barely aware of the world around her in that moment.

She listened to him, surrending herself to the idea that, without a real reason, she was stopping being a person to start being a number. She tried to memorize her name although she was almost sure she would have forgotten it soon. That would have probably caused her troubles, too bad, after all it couldn't go worse than this.

She listened the information and nodded lightly, still keeping her glance low. She wondered if there would have been anything different in her meal since she was pregnant, but she didn't ask. She would have found out soon anyway...

Boy, she's out of it. Dean thought, knowing it wasn't an act.

"You'll need to respect your guards, treat your cellmate decently, and all sound must stop at 11pm." He said, watching her carefully.

"Understood?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. He actually asked her, wanting her to say a word, at least one word.

She kept listening and then at his question she simply nodded. It was clear.
Well, the sound rule was an easy one: she wasn't however feeling really talkative…

She finally rose a bit her glance and took a vague look at the guard in front of her, then she asked
"Will I have the right to see a doctor?" then she added, to make clear what she was talking about "for the baby"
her voice was filled with french accent, although she was evident she knew the language she sounded pretty much like a foreigner.
But there was more: her voice, low and soft, sounded somehow broken.
Not like she was going to cry, it seemed more like a shattered sound, like it was even hard for her to have the strenght to speak.

Dean glanced over her, surprised by the question. "Yeah, we have an infirmary..." He said, not letting it show that something in his mind clicked.

Ah, that's why... He thought, watching her. She's already broken... Damn.

She nodded lightly and lowered again her glance. For a moment it seemed like she wanted to say more, but in the end she kept being silent.

"You're allowed to talk, you know." He said, watching her. "If you've got a question, ask it." He stated, still talking in a friendly tone.

He wasn't getting annoyed with her, he just wanted to see more reaction out of her He needed to see the way she ticked.

She swallowed lightly and nodded, then, still keeping her glance down, she started to ask with the same broken voice.
"My child, my Tipo..." she swallowed again, like she was having difficulties to formulate the question in the correct way.
"My lawyer told me I'll be informed if... if he... if there are... news..."
She finally rose her glance and for the first time looked at the guard in the eyes: in her eyes there were tears that she wasn't allowing to fall.
"Do you have any news?" she asked in an even lower, trembling voice, as she was afraid of what the answer could be.

ooc: gosh I feel like I'm giving Dean the worst weapon against Belle! I'm almost regretting it XD

Dean watched her, seeing the tears forming in the woman's eyes. He could see she was keeping them at bay from falling.

"No, there isn't any news." He said, in a sympathizing voice. "We'll let you know if we hear anything." He said, reassuring her that they wouldn't keep any news from her.

What the news they will give to her, he was sure Korso would have an idea on how to use the information to his advantages.

He waited to see if she had any other questions, before he would wrap up.

She nodded at his answer.
A mix of grief and relief appeared in her glance, that she lowered again quickly.
No news was still somehow good news, and not good enough in the same time.
She didn't need to know anything else.
She remained silent, again her glance down.

Dean watched her for a moment, before nodding to the guard. "He'll escort you to your cell." He said, before giving the guard a look to be gentle with her.

He watched as the guard stood beside her, waiting for her to stand.

She nodded again and stood up, following the new guard. Before to leave the room she turned lightly again toward Dean and asked in the usual broken voice softened by her foreign accent
"Sorry... could you repeat me my number? I'm not sure to remember it..."
she didn't want to forget it so easily or to disappoint later the guard, she didn't care too much actually but it was just in her genetic to try to be a 'good girl' even in a situation like that, it was just a part of her. She would have remembered it this time...

"B05443." He said, repeating it back to her, slowly, to help her remember it better.

Dean gave her a nod, not really having anything else to say. He got enough information out of her that he didn't even have to provoke her into giving it to him. No need to say "enjoy your stay," or anything like that.