Prison Life Script -

CAIN folds a grey bedsheet with surgical precision. His hands are scarred, knuckles flattened. He moves like a man conserving oxygen.

Then—a tray SLAMS down next to Angel. It’s FLACO and D-RAY. FLACO > You lost, pup. D-RAY > This is our table. ANGEL > I just sat down. FLACO > And now you get up. After you pay the tax. Flaco points to Angel’s dessert—a small, sad cookie. prison life script

Angel walks in clutching his linens. The room doesn’t go silent—it goes attentive . Like sharks smelling blood. CAIN folds a grey bedsheet with surgical precision

Flaco sits back down. But he points two fingers at his own eyes, then at Angel. I see you. Then—a tray SLAMS down next to Angel

Angel carries his tray. He’s shaking but he walks past Flaco and D-Ray’s table. Past Corrigan’s table. Corrigan raises an eyebrow, curious.

Harper stands by the control booth. He sees Angel’s face. No sympathy. HARPER > Told you. Don’t look at anyone’s cards. Angel doesn’t respond. He just keeps walking. Dark. The only light is from the corridor, seeping under the door.

Angel reaches Cain’s table. Cain is alone. Angel sits across from him.