Chapter Text
Will Sharpe never really considered himself to have a "Favourite person", not until- of course- his lecturer- Dr Flack- took him on because she saw something in him... didn't everyone though? She was lucky to receive his attention! All these suitors where basically pounding on his door every day in a long queue for his attention already, so he supposed she should be honoured he could find time to grace her with his knowledge.
But, as he sat alone in the dark- cold cell... He, for once, wasn't so sure.
He shifted in place, spinning a spoon in his hand as he stared down at a brown bowl of grey gruel. It honestly tasted like how he imagined wet socks would, but he was hungry and this is all they gave him- no matter how much he flirted with the guards. He slowly scooped another spoonful, placing it on his tongue tentatively before quickly swallowing it down. He couldn't help but gag slightly at the taste as it slid sluggishly down his throat. Luckily by now he had almost finished the entire thing- he didn't have much left to go- so he continued to struggle through his horrid meal.
"Will! Oh my dear William!" Bang, the door to his cell-viewing place (Whatever it was called) burst open in an explosion of fabric. He jumped, but relaxed to see Dr Flack's staple fluttering fan before her familiar face. I must trust Dr Flack. A voice started perking up in the back of his head insistently. "Oh- what ever am I to do! Oh how terrible, simply awful-" She was then at the bars with her watery eyes peering over the hand-fan. I must trust Dr Flack.
"Good to see you Miss" Will replied with a click of his tongue, winking in a confident manner. He ignored the lingering taste in his mouth.
"Oh Will, I am sorry! Such a bright student- oh this is terrible!" She wailed, lowering her fan to fold her hands to her chest. She looked Will in the eyes, but her expression- I must trust Dr Flack.
"Ain't any less bright now, just wait and see me on that stage" He leaned back, pulling his usual grin onto his face. He felt a cold-sick feeling run up and down his throat, but he ignored it. "I'm made for stages!"
"Oh I can't bear it!" She suddenly wept, raising her fan in-front of her face. "Oh goodbye William- oh goodbye- to see you on that stage- aghh!" In another flurry, she suddenly left, leaving behind a slam of the door, and Will.
Alone again, he supposed. He stared at the closed door in silence.
He eventually looked down at the spoon, and his reflection stared back. His same, stupid handsome, perfect reflection. He'd read these prison-break books before- in which criminals broke out of prison with nothing but a spoon to their name... Perhaps he could try that! Yes, he'd dig his way free! And so, he got up, and crouched at the back wall, scraping at the stone floor with his spoon. It would do something, he just... It had to. Surely.
Surely he can't be alone here.