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"So, do you think I should go?"

"Well... I don't know, Kitten. I think it's really up to you wether you go or not. Your 20.." Thomas Gillespie said as he paused from his granddaughter to fill in the blank.

"28." Catherine said bashfully.

"Ah yes. I knew it was somewhere in the later 20's. Your almost thirty, a grown woman by many standards. I don't feel right telling you what to do, many people will also give that answer. They'll also probably say that they can only give you suggestions. It's you who has to make the decision & know you like I think I know you'll make the right one."

The two generations of the Gillespie family were sitting in The Safe, one of the country's senior most maximum security prisons. The complex was on the southward face of Flanagan Island. Thomas' sole window looks north back toward the city & you can also just barely see the remains of the Islands' fairgrounds that use to be one of Parrodpolis' premiere tourist destinations.

Thomas was dressed up in a style that Catherine thought was more fitting befitting Hugh Hefner then an Prison Inmate. He was wearing a crimson red smoking jacket. On his feet were a pair of slippers (they were the same color of his robe) & a pair of argyle socks. His pants were pajama bottom, white cotton with light blue stripes, his top was of the same material & style. His hair once thick black hair was now grey with sections turning white & he was slightly balding up top. His skin was wrinkled but his body had held up well for an 88 year old in his line of business. He was seated in a high back leather chair, next to it was a wooden side table. On it was that morning's Parrodpolis Trombone. His manor of dress was from years' of being a "model" inmate.

Like the way he was dressed where he was incarcerated didn't fit normal standards. It was still your typical one room prison cell but Thomas has been afforded certain comforts of home.

Catherine was seated on a grey metal folding chair, she sat across from him. The only thing separating her from him was a highly advanced security system & a few feet of Plexiglas. On her feet were a pair of navy blue Chuck Taylor All-Star high tops. On her feet were argyle socks (Hers' were of a different pattern). Her pants are a well worn & ripped in places pair of blue jeans. She had a grey short sleeved T-Shirt on. Under that shirt was a red & black long sleeved shirt. Over the T-Shirt was an unzipped well worn, greying black hoodie with the sleeves pushed up. On her wrists were a few too many bracelets & a couple of wrist bands. A few of her fingers had some rings on them. Her black nail polish was cracked & chipped in places. She had short sandy blond which was pulled back & into two small ponytails, one on each side of the back of her head. She had somewhat pale skin & was also wearing a pair of black plastic glasses. Slung over back of her chair was an olive drag colored messenger bag.

Both sets of their green eyes sparkled a bit under the halogen lighting of the Prison.

The homey look to Thomas' cell was a stark contrast to the bare & emptiness of the cement hallway that she was in. The only thing besides her & chair was a metal catwalk that a guard every so often walked by on. Every time "Grandpa Tom" would wave at the guard with a smile on his face, the guard hardly if ever returned the greeting.

Just after the guard had left to check in on other inmates, Catherine replied. "I know. But I'm just not sure what to do. I've never been asked to the Lair Mansion before."

"Yes. But wasn't during one of the first meetings after you moved to this side of the country was that you want to go to the Mansion. I think you even asked if they gave tours."

"Yeah." Catherine said as gave a small smile.

"This is something you've wanted for awhile. It's been what a decade since you've been out here?"

"Yeah. I came out this way to go to Goth Haven University."

"For it's art program?" Thomas queried.

"Sort of. They were the only school that accepted my master thesis on a study of the American Comic Book."

Thomas shook his head is disbelief. "I remember when you were little & before your father stopped talking to me that he was worried that those things would ruin your life. I, your grandmother & I also think your mother thought they were harmless. Something you'd grow out off. Little did we know that it would come to consume a large part of your life."

"All I really needed to know I learned from Comics." Catherine joked.

"That very well may be. I haven't seen one in decades so my knowledge is out of date. What you've shared with me they have seemed to guide you well."

"Thanks, Granddad."

"I think anything you devote that much time to it's bound to rub off on you some how." Thomas said & the both of them both shared a laugh.

Once the laughing subsides, He asks "Did... Bookman, was it?"

Catherine nodded.

"Did Bookman give a time to meet him or do you just show up on their doorstep & ring the doorbell?"

"I don't think that would be wise, given that they are highly public group with lots of enemies who'd want to see them dead."

"But sometimes the direct method is the best method. It worked with Carol & I. I saw her, fell in love, went right up to her & asked her to dance. Sixth months later we were on our way to being married."

"But I don't think things work like that anymore."

"I guess. I hear people elope now & if it doesn't work they'll just get divorced then move onto the next conquest."

"Granddad!" Catherine said a bit shocked.

"Sorry. They had the TV in the common area yesterday on this pointless Celebrity news program & that's all they seemed to talk about. I miss the stars of my youth, we didn't need to know everything about them & that was just fine with us."

"Yeah."

They just sat there in a moment of silence. Catherine sat there & once again followed the cracks in the cement flooring. Thomas looked at off into space & smiled.

After a minute or two, Thomas said "Changing the subject: how's your father?"

Catherine looked up from the floor & said. "Fine, I guess. At least that was the last I heard from Aunt Angela."

"How is your Mother's Sister?"

"A bit annoying. She feels it's her mission to keep tabs on me just because we're related, living in the same city & has nothing better to do with her time."

Thomas laughed & then said. "Now I've not met the woman but when ever she's been mentioned to me they all most all say the same thing."

"She wants me to be a bridesmaid in Amanda's wedding." Catherine rolled her eyes.

"Who is she marrying?"

"I don't know. Some guy, they met at some party a few months back. He's going to be a doctor, lawyer, something that pays well."

"Are you going?"

"I don't know. I don't want to but I'll probably be made to show up & be in. I don't even really know her, we barely even share the same genetics."

"But family is family." Thomas said with a laugh."

"Thanks. I'm glad you feel my pain." She said flatly.

Catherine checked her watch. "I guess I should be going."

Thomas checked the clock on his wall. "Why? Visiting hours aren't over for at least another hour."

"True. But the sun is going down, I don't want to miss the last ferry back to the main land & as much as I love you, granddad: I don't feel like sleeping over." Catherine said as she stood up.

Thomas did also. Catherine folded up her chair & leaned up up against the bulletproof plexiglass. Catherine then pressed herself up against the glass, Thomas did the same.

"One day we should hug for real." Catherine said.

"I know. I've been up for a day pass a few times but keep getting turned down by the board of directors."

"Would a good word from a granddaughter help sway them?"

"I don't know. I'll see you next week & you'll tell me what happened with the Mansion?"

"It's a date!" Catherine said as she headed on down the hallway.

Once she was out of the corridor, Thomas looked up the the catwalk & said. "You know you could have said something."

"I know." said a man who came out from the shadows. He stood about six feet tall, maybe a little taller. He looked about middle age or approaching it. He wore a pair of horn rimmed glasses, behind them are a pair of blue almost slate grey eyes. His brown hair is slicked back & was cut in a very conservative manner. His face showed some signs of aging. His complexion was average. He wore a warm grey suit, a tailored white button down shirt, a dark red tie & black paten leather shoes. Over all this was a tan trench coat.

"How long had you known I was there?"

"When you came. The doors are old & tend to make noise when opened or closed."

"I noticed you didn't make my presence known."

"I didn't feel that was my place. Your a big boy & can do as you please. That's how you've always been"

"Hello, Father."

"Hi, Son."


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TO BE CONTINUED...

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Wait till the Psychic Samurai sees how Mr. Gillespe is living in his jail cell...

...though maybe it might be good for him for Chiaki to find out if he's a victim of circumstances.

I don't see why she'd have a problem with it: His way of living is from decades of being a model inmate. He's done nothing wrong, except for what got him into the prison system in the first place.


When the father & son talk I'll be bringing this up.

It probably wouldn't matter unless he starts making demands. Then she's probably take everything away.



Noted.

A fun exchange... I especially liked how the inside of the cell was far more comfortable than the outside. Her grandfather gives good advice, I think... I'm looking forward to seeing her visit to the Mansion and her impressions of it!

Thanks. I was trying to convey that. Prisons' are always the most comfortable places.


You think?


That'll probably be the next story I post.