Poker

Alec can't help it that he's surprised when Hope pulls out a deck of cards. He stares at them a moment, then back up to her, listening to her. For once, he stays quiet. Something about this woman... there was something... He didn't know what it was or why it was there, but there was something there that could calm a man's spirit. Alec wasn't used to dealing with people like her, and he tried to keep his guard up.

After several quiet moments, he finally reaches out to take the deck. Though his hands were cuffed, he could still manage to shuffle the cards, and quiet well at that, proving he'd played a game or two in his life.

Still just shuffling, he keeps his eyes on the cards, but finds himself talking. It was strange - he really didn't want to talk, but he was doing it anyway.

"A piece of garbage is a piece of garbage no matter what it thinks," he retorts to Hope's earlier question. "You can tell a rusty piece of lettuce that it's queen for a day and it can even believe you, but in the end..." He mimics a nosedive with his finger. "...it's still the garbage disposal for it."

The cards flip together loudly as he continues to mix them and he finally looks up to meet Hope's gaze. "You may think you don't want me to go to jail." He scoffs. "I don't want me to go to jail either. But it's the same thing. I got pulled into the Agency when I was just a kid. Thought it was all fun and games until I killed a man. I was fourteen."

Fourteen. Something had changed that day. He'd lost all innocence. He'd never returned to the little boy that never had enough time to grow up.

Alec shrugs and starts dealing out the cards, not even caring what game they played. "I've been interrogated here countless times, and squeezed dry of any and all information I have. The Elite knows what kind of a man I am. And now I'm a traitor to the Agency too. It doesn't matter what I do or where I go... either I'll have a warden watching me like a hawk, or the Agency coming after me."

Though he spoke with a cocky air that implied he didn't care one way or the other, in his eyes was a look of pain... a look that proved a scar existed... a scar of rejection. He had trusted the Agency. He could say all day long that he always knew anyone in the Agency had to look out for themselves, but in the end, he had trusted them, and now he had been left for dead - worse, they'd even tried to kill him themselves.

"Now I know you're supposed to evaluate whether you think I ought to go to jail for my crimes, or to keep the Elite safe from my evil hands, but give yourself a break and just turn on the garbage disposal."

He looks at his cards, then back up to Hope. "Seeing as though I have nothing to bet with, we better play something other than poker."


Ryder sees Thirteen look at him, and he knows that she must be wondering about Jason's odd behavior. He shrugs a little. "Jason and Katie are having a few problems," he explains gently. He reaches out to scratch Trooper's head. "Hey, big guy. You feel it too, don't you?"

Trooper sighs deeply as if he understands, then turns to walk out of the cubicle, dragging his leash with him. Apparently, he needed to go outside.