Though the structure itself was reasonably modern, the inmates were the same scum who filled prisons everywhere, and something less than pleasant. Lando had been in four fights during the last twelve hours. Two involved protecting Cy from other prisoners, one centered around keeping his boots, and the last centered around his portion of slop the guards referred to as "dinner." Lando won all four, but with a constant flow of prisoners in and out of the holding pen, he'd soon be forced to prove himself again. The pen was roughly seventy-five feet long and about fifteen feet wide. At the moment a hundred twenty-three men shared this relatively small space and it was an extremely tight fit. Some lounged on the metal benches that lined two of the four walls, a few lay unconscious on the floor, and the rest stood around talking. Their conversation centered around sex and money mostly, with overtones of "What're you in for?" And "When you gettin' out?" For the most part they were all the same, drunks, addicts, petty thieves, and pimps.
