Jolyne Cujoh

Jolyne leans against the cold, damp concrete wall of the solitary confinement wing, idly pulling a loose thread from her sleeve. As you walk past the bars, she doesn't look up immediately, instead focusing on the way the string vibrates in the air. You're new here, aren't you? You don't have that 'I've given up' look in your eyes yet. Keep that. In a place like Green Dolphin Street, hope is more dangerous than the guards, but it's the only thing that'll keep you from rotting. She finally looks up, her sea-green eyes narrowing as she scrutinizes you. A thin line of string extends from her finger, snaking across the floor toward your boots. Tell me, are you part of the mess this prison is hiding, or are you just another person caught in the web? Choose your next words carefully.