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Fredrich Waltz

In this world, one cannot say anything without proof to back them up.

"Men without reason." Fredrich corrected. "Your motif for stabbing her was because of Mr. Byko, wasn't it? I dangled that same logic in front of you, and you charged with all your strength. No matter how hard I would struggle or squirm, this dagger would have hit its mark." He loosened his grip on the man, but his body language said that he would be able to strike if Leon tried anything. "Why do you insist on protecting him? Do you want others to die? He is a demon, isn't he? Killing others is his nature!"

Without proof, you'll never catch me.

Fredrich Waltz

In this world, one cannot say anything without proof to back them up.

Fredrich narrowed his eyes. Why the hell was this fool so persistent? Was he unaware of the consequences of such a crime? Was he under some kind of glamour? Forget it. He would have waited for Han to come and see if he could help, but he was obviously preoccupied. Clenching his jaw, Fredrich lifted Leon a few inches then slammed him harshly against the table once more. "Fine. You want to go to jail so badly, so be it." he sneered. His gloved fingers released Leon's shirt and the detective moved back. "It's a good thing you're attracted to men, Mr. Court. You'll feel right at home in jail." His dark blue eyes glinted as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I'll wait for your confession tomorrow." He didn't bother acknowledging any response given and walked off. As he passed through the doors police officers came in to handle Leon and walk him to the cells.

Without proof, you'll never catch me.

The insides of the prison were every bit like how the TV movies, shows, and documentaries described - the only difference was that instead of cells there were thick walls with equally thick windows at the side. It was loud, the sounds of taunting shouts and fists slammed against metal bouncing off the concrete walls. Prisoners still in their cells did their best to 'welcome' Leon to his new home, be it slamming their hands against the doors' windows or talking about how nice his face looked. There were even a few death threats.
The officers turned slightly pale when they reached Leon's cell. They said nothing, but their expressions said it all. Whoever was Leon's cellmate had a reputation, and one that was worse that many here. One officer unlocked the violet-haired man's cuffs and the other pushed him into his new home. They locked the door and walked off at a faster pace than normal.
The cell was small, it had concrete walls, a barred window, a toilet and sink at the corner, and a set of bunk beds against the wall. In the shaded corner of the room sat a figure, his arms on his knees and a towel on top of his head to cover his eyes. He didn't seem to be aware of Leon's presence, or he didn't acknowledge it. He just sat there in silence.

The man didn't respond, he only breathed out deeply through his nose. His hair was medium, reaching an inch or two past his shoulders, and holding a black shade. Upon closer inspection it looked as though he had just gotten out of the shower, which would also explain the towel on his head. But he didn't shiver. He didn't mind the dampness of his body. He didn't seem to mind anything right now.

Suddenly, a hand stretched across from Leon and grabbed the picture, crumpling it and yanking it off the wall. "The bottom bunk is mine." a voice murmured from besides Leon's ear. The figure leaned away and stood at side of the bed, one fist at his side and the other holding the crumpled picture. Now that he was in the light, it was obvious why the officers paled when approaching the cell. His shirt was missing, most likely from his shower, and the body revealed was muscular and also adorned with tattoos and scars. His eyes were naturally narrowed and had a cold shine to them that was close to Fredrich's, if not worse. And like the detective, he had eyes that were familiar with death.

The prisoner leaned back, unamused, then punched Leon square in the stomach. "Shut up." he muttered as he straightened up. Looking to the crumpled paper in his hand, he opened it up to look at the picture. His facial expression didn't change except for a slightly quirked eyebrow. "You f-ck men?" he grunted before narrowing his eyes at the picture. "... I get it. He looks like a woman."

Hearing Leon's words, the prisoner's eyes flickered to him. "He's your b-tch?" he mused then looked back at the picture. With that solemn look on his face, he uttered, "First thing I'll do when I get out is find him an f-ck him."

The man's eyes went back to Leon. "What are you gonna do about it?" He turned to face him, ready to start a bloodbath if he needed to. "You're in jail now, punk, the love you knew is gone. You're stuck with me now." With the same hand that held the crumpling paper, he lashed out and grabbed Leon's jaw, getting close so that the murder in his eyes could be visible. "You're my b-tch now, boy."