A guard in uniform led the way, and Cynthia followed behind while looking around with restrained curiosity. The place was less oppressive than she had expected, but it sill remained a penitentiary.
She was led through the corridors of the heavy-walled place, until they reached a room which was separated in two sides by partitioned glasses, with chairs on either side.
The guard pointed at one of the seats, and spoke with distant politeness:
"Please wait here, madam. The prisoner you want to see will be here soon."
Cynthia looked at the seat, and pursed her lips:
"I see. Thank you."
She sat down, not feeling any comfort on the metallic chair, and she waited, looking at the other side. The door was soon opened, and accompanied by the clankings of metallic chains, a man came in. He was wearing a prisoner's suit, a mop of blond hair on his head, along with a beard which had not been there a few months ago.
