How To Be Sentenced To

“You’re early, I’m not scheduled to go on today,” a voice said. Phil looked around, eyes widening. He was in a medium-sized room, much smaller than the barracks he’d been stored in for the last three months since he’d been brought in. Also unlike the barracks, this place had an actual braided rug on the floor, a small bookcase by the head of the bed, and what looked like a quilt on the bed. There was a man sitting on the bed—a piglin hybrid by the looks of the height, the pink hair and the tusks—reading. He didn’t look up from the book. “What now, you’re gonna tell me plans change?” He turned a page on the book, exaggeratedly slow. There was a chain that connected his wrist to the wall. Phil cleared his throat. “Uh, no, no problems here, just checking in on shit, you alright there, mate?” The man looked up, his eyebrows flying upwards. “Am I alright?” Shit. He shoulda gone with the abusive guard angle. Even in the uniform he’d pulled off the man he’d knocked out, maybe he wasn’t perfect at impersonating people. Committed now, though.