Dirk had filled out the forms and made the very short list of people allowed to visit him. He'd graduated from the bright orange that the newbies wore to the dark blue with white lettering uniform. He wore a sweatshirt that he'd borrowed under the scrubs like get up and had a pair of those cheap tennis shoes on his feet. He was folded into a chair and his arms were resting on a table. His hands were clasped and his thumbs tapped. He looked up every time there was a muffled voice or sounds of shuffling feet near the door. "C'mon..." he grumbled.

When he showed up, he was clean shaved. Since the last full moon, they had both survived it. Quinn was right about prison confining the werewolves during full moon. There were no news reports of Dirk being up for murder charges.

A fresh face, a clean suit. He looked more like the spoiled youth he was, slipping into daddy's shoes and taking over the company. That wasn't altogether untrue, the exception being that he had used his father's blood to lubricate the slid of his feet into the old shoes. Still, it was clear he had tried to make an effort to look appealing even if in doing so he seemed surprisingly formal, clean, and serious. He was already arguing with one of the guards right before he was let in.

White-blue suit, white undershirt not tucked in as he stepped in. He was irritated with the whole process, up until he saw Dirk. Once his eyes found him he brightened.

Dirk stood up with a wide smile the moment that Amare stepped into the room. He had to stay at his table, so he danced from one foot to the other until Amare was close enough for a single hug and a single kiss. Damn, did Amare look that good always? Or had time and distance truly make his heart grow fonder? Either way, Dirk was elated to see him.

"Hey asshole," he chuckled as he opened his arms for Amare to step into. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

"Hey," and then a hug and flash of his hand down Dirk's backside to give him a squeeze when they kissed. There was his grin as he looked at Dirk, relieved and feeling slightly more centered for his presence. Everything in the world orbited in weird ways and he hadn't really noticed it until then. He had that hit of a fresh shower, of cologne and the attempt to be charming. Amare didn't attempt to be charming, well, pretty much ever for anyone. Not even Mannique.

"You piece of shit. How's it going?" The kiss they exchanged was forced into being a short one. The guard was glowering and he frowned, sinking into the visitor's chair at the end of the table before he fucked up his visitation rights. It was the only thing that kept him from giving the guard a big 'fuck you.'

Dirk didn't want to let go. The kiss was too short and the embrace made him shiver when it was over. He sat down across from Amare and reached for his hands. But before they could touch there was a barking order, "No touching!" from the guard nearest to them. Dirk pulled his hands back and his smile faltered just a bit as he looked back at the guard.

He then turned to look at Amare and that smile came back. "It's going. They put me in a pen for the full moon. Lots of rabbits and raccoons didn't make it." He shrugged then and sat back, his eyes questioning. What'd Amare do for the full moon? What's he done since they were forced to part ways. But instead of asking these insecure questions he let out a breath and shook his head. "Damn, you look so good."

"Fuck they have a stick up their ass," he muttered under his breath, planting is forearms atop the table. The fingernails of his left hand picked out the invisible debris beneath the nails of his right. There was an annoyed look away, like he was plotting their prison break until Dirk mentioned the bit about raccoons and rabbits. It made him laugh a bit, if anything because he knew what Dirk was capable of and they were beyond that raccoon and rabbit shit. Still, it was better than climbing the walls, bored as fuck.

Dirk's long stare, the admission that he looked good made him smile, but it was a bitter smile. He'd tried to make an effort, sure, but now that the effort was 'paying off' it left him feeling hollow. He wasn't sure what he wanted, what made anything really ever feel better. His eyes dropped and between his gritted teeth he admitted, "I miss you like fuck." He swallowed down the admission and looked at him, the discontent mounting in his eyes when he added, "I don't know how to do this life shit without you."

"Yeah," he breathed with an upnod and twist of his head. The screws in this place had a stick up their asses and a hard on for being dickheads. He sighed when Amare's head lowered and he picked at his manicured nails. A sadness washed over Dirk, fueled by Amare's palpable frustration. Beyond the sire bond that they shared, the physical evidence of the pain of missing someone was evident in both of their faces.

His eyes watered and his nose turned red when Amare quietly made his confession. The plan was that Amare would never have to figure things out on his own. They were going to be together and always have each other's back. Dirk's own frustration started to grow because he could only have his own back while he was in here. "Hey," he murmured and wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. "If I behave I can be out in months. I'm trying really hard to behave. Really hard."

"Yeah, I guess it's better you than me or it'd be the three years, for sure." His hands folded as he looked at Dirk and then sighed, saying rather flatly, "Or I could get arrested. Then I'd be there too, right? That works." Though it might have been harder to gauge the sentencing of a small for their time in the oven to match up. His scratched at the smooth side of his face and added with a sigh, "I'm trying. Just don't make me promise to be good at it."

It was starting to feel awkward. Those sort of raw moments always left him uncomfortable and he usually handled it by saying something insensitive that lead to an argument they could take out on each other for the rest of the night. This was different, though. All they'd be doing is leaving each other isolated and in the company of others when it was over. "You want me to do anything for you for when you get home?"

"No baby, don't get arrested. You don't have to be good at life, or even behaving yourself." He leaned forward to whisper, a small smile peeking through. "Just don't get caught." He tapped the table and sat back to really get a good look at Amare.

Was there something that Amare could do for Dirk? He glanced aside and then back to Amare. "Yeah, have that asshole lawyer tied up in the back yard. Make sure that he's good and fattened up and terrified as shit. I'm going to make it slow and fucking painful."

He put his foot on the outside of Dirk's, glancing at the guard before he slouched a bit further, their calves crossing. Okay, it wasn't much and he wanted a whole lot more but it was weirdly soothing. Don't get caught. Right. Another bitter smile at it, though he wondered why he couldn't. What was so wrong with getting arrested and being there with Dirk? Why wasn't that a solution?

"You don't have to fatten up lawyers, they do that on their own pretty damn well." He exhaled and it was clear that he wanted to complain. Mannique was trying to fill the void but she could only do so much. He held her and spent some time accessorizing her but there were just too many hours in the day. "I'm trying to... you know, bond or whatever with Quinn like you wanted. I think it's going okay. I mean... there's only the occasional death threat so things are looking up." Unlike the Levi incident with the Puma puppet and some tackling and pummeling.

Dirk's eyes rolled closed at the contact of their calves and he blew out a sharp sigh. He wanted so much more. It was him in a concrete cell with an iron and silver door and that was it. Human contact, lycan contact, any contact was very tightly controlled because of his nature. His eyes squeezed tightly shut so he could remember this feeling.

They opened back up when he started to talk about bonding with Quinn. Dirk nodded with an encouraging smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Good, good. He doesn't think he can teach you, but he can." The words tasted like acid in his mouth and he really didn't want to be saying them. The feeling that he was losing Amare was like a smothering woolen blanket, soaked through with gasoline. "Yeah. It's good."

"Give me one good reason not to get in here with you." His blue eyes resting on Dirk's eyes, demanding an answer. Tell him why he shouldn't get himself in jail. Why it was somehow magically acceptable to be without him? Why he was asking one of the most impatient people there was to sit quietly and wait his turn. Was this a test? Did Dirk want to sit in there and feel the chiasm between them and see what he would do. That's what it was, it was a test.

"Why can't I just be good enough for you?" It was so much easier being angry with him. His leg wasn't moving but his posturing, his body, said he thought Dirk was accountable. That he'd given him some sort of pop quiz. Nevermind that the sex-shop-not-chucky-cheese incident had been of his devising. No. Somehow Dirk had planned this, had known the outcome, and was seeing if he would check the right boxes.

"Because we'd only see each other once a month for maybe fifteen minutes. They use silver to keep me in that room and when I get aggravated they inject wolfsbane in my veins. You don't want this, baby, please don't do anything to end up in here. Please."

And then Amare was getting angry, it was his go to emotion and Dirk shook his head. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, baby. If anything, I wish I could be good enough for you. I love you and I just want what's best for you. Hanging out with Quinn isn't so bad. Is it?"

"It's not the same." His fist hit the table surface as he looked at Dirk, that closed fist opening up as he continued, "If it was the same then what the hell would I be doing coming here to talk to you? This is so d--" the guard was waving at him and making motion that he needed to settle down. This could not have been the old charged meeting with a prison inmate that the officials had seen. Amare did what he was taught to do. Take in a breath, let it out slowly. Think of clouds. Clouds in the shape of dicks. No, just calm, peaceful clouds... that one kinda looks like a squished dog on the side of the road.

"I'll keep trying." He reasserted, clearing this throat and nudging the side of his leg back into Dirk's. Trying. Lawyers. It'll be fine.

"I know it's not the same," he agreed wholeheartedly with that. Amare was right across from him, the urge to touch him, to hold him, slap him, bite and claw and tear that suit to shreds... Dirk shifted in his seat and rubbed his leg against Amare's.

The next day he arrived as discussed for visitation. The items he had brought for Dirk were not all of what was discussed, but it was the best he could do with one day's noticed. Maybe next week he'd have the other things ready but it was just going to have to be good enough. Dirk seemed the most happy about him just showing up, not necessarily him showing up with the proper 'gifts' in tow.

The guard had given him a strong word about behavior. About how it was a privilege to see inmates and that it wouldn't take much to have that taken away. Amare frowned but managed not to verbalize a grumble. It was likely his temper would get the best of him, just not today. Today he could swallow that there were rules he had to follow and that something he wanted, Dirk, could be taken away.

Today he dressed like a funeral. All black suit, all black shirt. It made him look more pale and somehow, his eyes more blue. He hadn't shaved that day so there was a slight prickling of blond, enough to loosely describe as a five o'clock shadow. The manhandled gifts were in his left hand, his smile appearing once Dirk was in view.

Dirk was sitting at the same table, wearing identical uniform to the day before. The dark blue scrubs made his complexion nearly translucent. His hair was a bit touseled from running his hands through it as he waited, somewhat impatiently and expectantly, for Amare.

And then, there he was. Dirk smiled and stood up from the chair he was in and watched as Amare had a lecture from the CO. He knew the man may as well not say anything at all because the time will come that he and Amare would set this prison on fire together and there was nothing that could be done about it.

Though the black suit did remind him of a funeral, Dirk couldn't keep those hungry eyes and that shit eating grin from his face when Amare approached. He held out his arms and wrapped up Amare as tightly as he could. A leg was even lifted to push his thigh onto Amare's hip.

The guard barked and Dirk sighed. Time to behave. Amare was given a lustful, longing, needy kiss before he broke away and sat down once again on his side of the table. "Who died?"

His head turned when Dirk embraced him. He could feel the pressure of his thigh go up his side. His words were a growl drilling into Dirk's ear drum when he spoke, "I'm going to tie your hands behind your back and make you take my clothes off with your mouth, then I'll--" the hug ended and they were on good behavior, exchanging a kiss that was sparked with the edge of his teeth and an agitated demeanor. This was what Dirk knew to be the feisty anger that came from no where and revolved, violently. The not-fight preceding the tumultuous make-up sex.

Amare was trying not to look pissed off, but his emotions were about as subtle as fireworks. It's the effort, the thought that counts, right? Dirk ask who died and he muttered, "My dick. Anyway," he nudged the small stack of things that had been in his left hand across the table to Dirk, "I don't have any pictures or anything. I took some but they take like an hour or something to print at those stupid places."

Dirk knew his actions were playing with fire and now he sat in that chair, burning. He'd not touched himself since he'd been led away in handcuffs to a life of boring beige walls and taunting the CO's. He hadn't much contact with other inmates because he had chosen not to have the constant wolfsbane injections. So the bump and grind hello shared with Amare was stirring his own dick to life.

"Sorry," he smirked as he gathered the books and pencils from the middle of the table. He couldn't help it. Here he sat with a raging boner and Amare's talking about how his own dick was dead. Lifting his hand to his mouth, he wiped the smile from his face and then reached across the table to venture a touch. "So tell me everything. What did you eat for breakfast?"

It was like all the bad parts of a relationship were being distilled into that one moment. With his usual inability to sympathize, Amare was making a valiant effort. Practically moving mountains with it. He got all dressed up for a date that amounted to one hug and a kiss and maybe a slight bit of hand brushing. Beyond that, Dirk was ecstatic to see him while he was pouring buckets over his frustrated ire. Prison was so stupid. The situation was so stupid.

And now, the worst part of all. The small talk. He was being subjected to small talk. He swallowed, feeling the brush of their hands as Dirk took the Catcher and the Rye and The Lord of the Flies from him. There was also a letter, written in his slightly erratic, cursive penmanship. It wasn't much in the way of being a love letter and seemed more like Amare had been distracted with how annoying the situation with living alone had become. The clocks had gotten too loud so he did the sensible thing and broke them. It wasn't like he had to be on time for anything, anyway. That's what cellphones were for.

"I uh... grabbed a chicken biscuit on the way here. With a soda. I befriended a mannequin so we're doing a lot of things together, too."

Dirk lifted the books to sniff them. His eyes closed and he felt like he was in their bedroom. He could see the broken pottery scattered across the floor, smell the drying blood and semen and practically hear Amare with his soft half snort, half chortle as he slept. The sensation gave Dirk's heart a painful squeeze and he opened his eyes to look up at Amare.

Chicken biscuit and a soda. It was so normal and so out of his reach. He'd had bread and some sort of meat with a fruit cup and a cup of coffee for breakfast. Lunch was about the same. Dinner had been mashed potatoes instead of bread, soggy broccoli instead of the fruit and he guessed the meat was some form of meatloaf. "When I get out of here, we're going to have an old fashioned pig roast with fried chicken, corn on the cob, watermelon..." he sat back and hugged the books and pencils to his chest. "So tell me about the mannequin. Why... a mannequin?"

"Whatever you want is fine." There was a small shrug of his shoulders. Amare couldn't get that Dirk was having to do without, and that was making him crave things. He knew what it was like to sniff at old relics though, to squeeze out the memories of them and hope it was enough to sustain. He'd been doing a bit of that these days, though it left him with an inclination to burn things. Reminders weren't good and it hurt a great deal to consider them for too long.

"I dunno, I just found her." He wasn't sure that he was ready to justify Mannique to him, like she was a real secret lover he didn't want to admit to. Truth was, it helped to have something human shaped to drag around and curl up next to. Something that wouldn't try to fuck him, lie to him, or talk about feelings. She was, for all intensive purposes, an emotional doll for him. Dirk didn't need to know how crazy he was unless absolutely necessary.

"Baby, I know it's hard," he sighed and canted his head just a bit. His expression was soft and concerned for Amare. "Just promise that we'll eat the heart out of that fucking lawyer for abandoning us like that, ok? Don't do it just yet. Let him think things are fine and dandy. And when I get out? We feast on his heart and fuck in his blood. Ok?"

He smiled then and slid his foot under the table to touch the inside arch of Amare's foot. "When are you coming back?" His voice was small, a whisper of the normal, confident tone he usually carried. There was no reason to think that Amare wouldn't come back, but nobody said fear was ever rational.

"Yeah, I know, I know," it was a small solace to think that the lawyer would suffer. That didn't fix his current suffering, now did it? When he felt Dirk's foot slid against his he almost jerked away. That wasn't because he didn't want to be touched. Fuck he wanted to be touched. He just... he was geared up and angry that being touched, really being touched, wasn't going to happen. It was easier to be a bristling porcupine about it.

"A couple of days. Got to get you those pictures and print them up and then come by and all that." He motioned in the air with his hands. What he wasn't saying was he just needed to curl up in bed and sleep alone for a little while. As violent, as terrible as his moods were, he also needed that pitiful dormant pause to recharge.

Dirk pulled his foot away and set the books onto the table. He really didn't know what to say. Amare didn't seem to want to talk about anything and Dirk wanted to know everything. It was an impasse that he never thought that they would reach. His mind whirled, trying to latch onto an idea of something to talk about while Amare was still sitting there.

"So. Uh. Quinn. You've been hanging out? Getting to know each other?" His brows raised and then fell as he scowled at himself.

"Yeah, I mean, yeah." He was wanting to say more, to be more interactive, but it was hard to step past the frustration. There was a moment that his eyes looked apologetic for it. That he knew Dirk was grasping at the moment as something precious and he was failing to deliver that for him. His right hand scratched at the top of his left. Quinn made him uncomfortable. It was okay when it was him and Quinn, but he had the nagging impression that Quinn was still soft for Dirk. Still hopeful. That Amare was an asshole outsider that, especially with Levi being gone, he thought he could outweather.

And couldn't he? How long did anyone endure an unstable relationship with someone like him? It didn't matter if you never cheated if you were still, at your core, intolerable.

"Yeah?" Dirk's chin lifted and he saw the apology in Amare's eyes. His own started to go wide slowly as he sat back. And then he couldn't look at Amare anymore. He couldn't because he would go absolutely mad with the images that were exploding in his head. Amare had never cheated on Dirk, but now that the situation made things so much less accessible?

"When?" his voice was strangled and when he looked up at Amare again, his eyelids were red and his eyes were very moist.

He was many things. He was perhaps, partly unhinged. He wasn't socially acceptable. He was abusive in more than one way. Murderous in several. But he wasn't disloyal. For some reason that just didn't fall in his list of 'downfalls.' What he felt like, lately, was that he ended up in a place he shouldn't. In between some reconciliation of Quinn and Dirk, especially since Levi was gone. They asked about each other and he always felt cheapened as being the mouthpiece for that.

"Other day. Couldn't drive and I can't go to the gypsy camp cause of... whatever." There was his shrug to follow the explanation. Dirk's eyes were glass and he was trying not to show that he saw that. His hands folded together on his lap, "Do you think I'm a phase you needed to go through?"

Dirk hadn't asked the question outright, but the emotion behind it was there. And even though Amare didn't pick up on it, Dirk couldn't help but feeling the insecurity. Dirk knew first hand how flirty Quinn could be and how seductive and how good it felt when someone that good looking was close, available and paid attention to you.

But the answers Amare was giving, his body language, led Dirk to believe that the intent of the question had gone right over his head. So if he wasn't guilty of cheating, what was he feeling guilty over? Dirk was so busy trying to figure out Amare's body language that he nearly missed that question that hung in the air between them. "What?" He leaned forward, the tears dried before they fell. "The fuck are you talking about, baby?"

"Nothing, fuck." He didn't really have it in him to explain what was nagging him. There weren't enough words and even if there were, he couldn't have properly arranged them without enough profanity to slid in between his statements. It wasn't wrong to say that he was insecure, mostly because he had never been given a relationship to work with before. Let along with one that had this baggage. Amare knew that he operated on a wavelength that not many could also be on. Was he leaving Dirk behind, slowly and surely?

One day would his extreme persona no long be sexy and fun, but an annoyance? Would someone more reasonable, more in charge, like Quinn... that comfortable ex, loom irresistibly? He didn't offer that stability, that kindness of love and when the novelty wore off and Dirk found himself like that night in kentucky, feet bleeding and in tears would there be any magnetic force still drawing him back his way?

"It's a long fucking week. Supposed to get better. I dunno who says that but they do."

"Amare," he said quietly, painfully. "Look at me. I'm not going anywhere. You're not a phase." He was pleading with Amare to listen to him. "You don't have to slash my tires or steal a distributer cap from my engine. You're the one. You're it for me."

He sighed then and let his shoulders sag as he slouched in his chair. "I'm just afraid that while I'm in here, Quinn's going to be good time Charlie and that he'll try to hurt me, like I hurt him. By... by..." he glanced over at the guard who seemed intent on listening in on their conversation. He scowled and then turned his attention back to Amare. "By taking you from me."

"I'm not a t-shirt people fucking borrow. I don't just get taken and passed around." Quinn hadn't exactly been flirting with anything. If anything,he occasionally felt like he was being babysat and never pursued. That was how he worked, though. Even if someone was interested in him, it too an aggressive attempt at him for them to be noticed. In his usual egocentric way, Amare could only wrap his mind around those that he would pursue and not who might be considering him available.

"You think it's just that easy? Someone just has to pick me up and that's all it takes to get me?" His anger and frustration was unwieldy, easy to exact on the smallest gives in a conversation.

Amare's anger came as a relief to Dirk. He blew out a breath and sat up in his chair, making scraping noises on the cement tiled floor. "No, you're right. It was stupid to think that." He then smiled and reached for Amare's hand. The guard tsked and he pulled away. "Matching ring tattoos, right?"

Instead of touching Amare, he used his right hand to lift his left ring finger from his fisted left hand. The tattoo was faded, but still there.

At about the moment he decided he'd squeeze Dirk's hand back, the hand was already withdrawn. That seemed to be how things worked for him, though. His tattoo was faded as well. The ring finger didn't keep a tattoo very well, especially at the sides where the fingers were constantly brushing up against one another. He was partly eased by Dirk's admission but not entirely. Lately he kept feeling like he was about to explode except that was no one to explode at. To yell at. To tear at. There was only the wind or a brick wall, which left him feeling hollow.

Life had become exceedingly more frustrating.

"I don't know what to do, so I'm doing everything."

It was at that point that the prison guard announced visitation was over.

"Doing everything?" he frowned, brows creased with concern and curiosity. "What does that... hey, not yet. You don't get to go without answering me. What do you..." But the guard kept cutting him off, insisting that it was time for Amare to go. Dirk's lips became an angry line and when he turned his head to look at the guard, those eyes shone bright yellow and his voice dropped into a gravelly basement.

"Fuck off," he grumbled at the guard. He then turned his attention back to Amare. He was sweating, his face was red and he was clawing at the table with sharpened fingernails. "What do you mean?"

Dirk's first mistake was to allow his emotions to get the best of him, especially anger. His second was turning his attention away from the guard. Without knowing it, an unvocalized communication between the guards had been transmitted. Before he realized what was happening, a needle burned into his skin of the side of his neck and his eyes went wide. The gold faded to the hazel browns as his head lowered and his vision became a long, dark tunnel. Seconds later, he was out.

"I'm keeping busy." That's what he meant to Dirk when he said it. He was doing everything, all the stupid impulsive thoughts that came to mind. Usually Dirk was there to filter it but lately there was no one. So Amare just did things. Unfiltered and at mostly, lightly chaperoned.

"Don't get--" but it was too late. When Dirk got anger and the guard reacted, Amare got angry too. It turned into one big fuckfest of crawling, squirming bodies. It ended with him also getting an injection and eventually being escorted to the waiting room to "wear it off." When he became a little more aware of himself the first thing he did was check the time and thought, "Fuck..." and then, realizing this would be a delay in good behavior release he threw his phone against the wall, "FUCK."

"Well I wouldn't have to worry about my dick being chewed off," he smirked and chuckled. "But no. Nobody is as hot as my baby is." Dirk accentuated this with a brow waggle. "So what do you do to pass the days? Monique?" He chuckled again and lifted the photos to flip through them once again, more slowly this time.

He recognized the Inn in most of them, Quinn's mug caught in more than a few. He smiled warmly and at the photo of Amare with Mannique, he gently rubbed over the glossy photo of Amare's rare and hidden genuine smile. God he missed that smile.

Looking up, his eyes were misting over once again. He hated crying and it seemed like he did a hell of a lot of that lately.

"When my competition is a toothless werewolf and granite guy then I sure as fuck better be on the top of that list," a point to Dirk with his dry sort of half grin.

What did he do to pass the time? Mannique was a part of it. Maybe a larger part than Dirk was really considering but he shrugged his shoulders, "Basically. I try to go out some but it doesn't work very well. People are fucking weird and stupid and just say and do dumbass shit in my direction all the time. I don't know. I broke this girl's nose but I didn't get arrested or anything," a pause before he added, "obviously." He was not going to add that this had all sprung from him being enraged at her advances on Mannique.

"Quinn and Saila are there for me. We went to the taxidermy place down the road and swapped the eyes and balls there, but I don't have any pictures. I didn't think about it."

Dirk winked with a saucy grin on his face. Amare was number one, is number one and will continue to be his number one. His smile back was just as dry as the one given.

He listened to Amare, leaning forward in his seat with his hands clasped together on the table. Dirk was hanging on every last word. It was a glimpse of life on the outside and he laughed when Amare broke the girl's nose and then swapped balls for eyes at the taxidermist. "Might be better to not have photos of breaking and entering," he whispered with a glance to the guard and then back. "So how'd you break the chick's nose? What'd she do? Did you want to eat her?"

"She pissed me off, so I threw my glass at her." He was not the best storyteller. It was always Dirk who had the gift for including the juicy details that people wanted. The ones which would really paint a picture. Also, it got to be a little aggravating to think about. Old wounds had a sort of poison to them which reinvigorated his thoughts, stirred up the conflict and left him seething in it again. He didn't want to brood too much on the chick with the crooked nose or the visit would be spent simmering on how he would go about eating her at the next full moon. She'd probably taste like cigarette filters, booze and plastic. She had that look about her.

There was also the sexual tension that he had with... himself. That he hadn't gone so long without getting laid and it was becoming increasingly difficult to deal with that. One could only get so creative with masturbating. Maybe if he did it upside down. No. The problem was that he enjoyed hurting someone too much for the solo act to be very gratifying. A sadist required an audience. The internet said the first month would be the hardest. Was that supposed to be a pun?

Dirk should have known better than to ask with the expectations of getting the full story. Amare had said all he was going to say on the matter. That much was clear by the expression on his face. Dirk was just going to have to fill in the gaps with his own imagination. For the moment, all he could do was encourage. "Good for you. The bitch had it coming."

But then, they both fell silent. He looked down at the photos again and slowly went through them, studying the top picture and then putting it at the back of the deck to look at the next. "So... Monique. Is she good... you know, in bed?"

"She has her good days and her bad days," it was obvious that he couldn't actually fuck the mannequin since... well, she wasn't built like that nor modified for it. She suited his need to have someone around that he could be slightly abusive and yet ridiculously territorial of. Talk of Dirk jerking off and then questions about someone ?in bed' was coupled with the intense displeasure he had at not getting to fuck. It wasn't something he felt he could really complain about to Dirk or... well, anybody. He suspected that it wasn't much of a secret.

"I don't know, there's some medicine or whatever that you can take that kinda... makes that shit not such a priority." It seemed like a ray of light in a dismal situation... while also being incredibly annoying. Amare didn't like the idea of temporarily 'neutering' himself so he could get by in life more comfortably. Take the little blue pill or take the little white pill, too bad they both lead to Hell. He muttered, "I need a fucking job."

"What?" Dirk blinked rapidly and sat back in his chair. "There's a pill you can take so you don't want to get laid?" Dirk wanted that pill and he wanted it right now. "You have to get me some of that stuff. Cheek it and when you kiss me, I'll swallow it. It's all I think about the last few days. What I'm going to do, what we're going to do when I get the fuck out of this place. We're going to rent a whole block of hotel rooms and fucking tear up every god damned last one of them."

"...Yeah." The word was said so slowly, so heavily, that it fell like a punch from his mouth. Yeah. Like he hadn't run a thousand scenarios though his head or wasn't feeling like a bitch in heat. It probably had a lot to do with why he was so ornery. Why he was going out and doing things. There was a small shrug of his shoulders as he thought about it, "I don't know what it's called but they use it after surgeries and... I dunno. Maybe just some Prozac will do the trick." Those mood altering drugs had a way of taking the spice out of someone's blood, or so he heard. That would work just as well, right? Maybe even level him out a bit. He could be reintroduced into society, maybe get a job in real estate or something.

"Do you have any?" Dirk had ducked his head and whispered the question with eyes wide and wary of the guard. He needed something, anything, to take away the ache of missing Amare and all things about Amare. It was enough to drive a man insane, sitting alone for eighteen or so hours a day with nothing but his thoughts and his hands. "Please, baby. I'm dying in here," he pled with Amare. Just a couple of weeks in and already Dirk was ready to go home. Hell, he'd been ready to go home when they first put him in this place. "Please."

"I just got the idea, I've got nothing on me right now." He admitted with an uneasy scratch to the back of his neck. He didn't particularly like being medicated. Being medicated would mean seeing a doctor/therapist type. While he was sure he qualified... wouldn't that only mean that there would be a prescription for one? While he was agitated, Dirk was pleading. At least he could leave the house and go do stuff.

Amare smiled for him and nodded, "I'll get it handled for you soon as I can." He just wanted him to stop saying please, something about it made him intensely uncomfortable. Clearing his throat, he put his folded hands on top of the table. It would have been better if he could have reached out and held his hand. Maybe Amare could be the white knight pill dealer. Maybe. It required jumping through even more hoops of "behaving" for that to be possible.

Dirk sat back with a sigh of relief. Amare had never broken a promise to date and he didn't expect that to change now. He smiled and rubbed is hands together but resisted the urge to reach out and touch Amare. "Thank you, baby. I'm going nuts in here."

He picked up the photos again and looked down at them. He picked a couple from the pack, all of them with Amare, one with Quinn and the Squirrel girl, too. Mannique was in all three as well. He then put the rest into the envelope and scoot them across the table. "I get my books and stuff today," he smiled his gratitude and tapped the edges of the photos onto the table.

"They're all yours. I have the phone," he reached in his pocket and wiggled the phone before putting it back in. When Dirk mentioned getting his stuff back he smiled and nodded. It was about at that moment that the guard yelled that visitation time was almost over. (Insert pissy look at guard here.) Amare cleared his throat and rose, feeling mechanical and stifled. He leaned stepped around the table, leaning into Dirk. Despite prison soap and prison smells, he still smelled like him. The scent reminded him of lazy hotel mornings together, cursing at the sunlight when it crawled in through the window.

"It's going to be fine." Eventually. Soon.

"Oh," he nodded and brought the envelope back across the table. The photos that he'd picked out were added back to the fold and the hugged it to his chest. The guard announced that time was up and Dirk's smile disappeared. He looked up at Amare with those hazel eyes and took in a deep inhalation of Amare's scent. There was a bit of Quinn and Saila there, too. He closed his eyes and tried to hold it in as long as he could.

Reaching out with his free arm, he wrapped it around Amare's waist and lifted his chin for that kiss farewell for now.

His eyes had a worried look to them. Where he was saying that he loved him, but that he also couldn't bring himself to put the words out there. If Dirk had challenged him he would, of course, had said 'of course I love you, you idiot.' But on his own, in that vulnerable moment, all he could do was kiss him and then stare down, breaking a halfhearted smile. It was time to go. Kissing someone with a timer like that was hardly a happy occasion.

"I'll try to bring you something else next time." He straightened up and then starting away with the other visitors, throwing a look over his shoulder to catch another moment of Dirk before he had to step out with the others.

Dirk's eyes closed once again and he murmured softly. "I love you," as their lips touched. And then Amare was gone and sat with his shoulders slumped and a sad frown upon his face. He watched the sway of Amare's hips and wished that he was going with him.

Amare turned and Dirk sat up in his chair, smiling and blowing a kiss to him. And then he was gone. Dirk turned his attention to the guard and pulled at the cuff at the table. "I'm ready to go back to my cell, now."