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o p e n

CHARACTERS: Anne Cunningham
LOCATION: the kitchens
WARNINGS: Anne cursing like a sailor
SUMMARY: Anne attempts to make a sandwich, which is obviously not going to end well.
NOTES: In case you wondered, this is basically Anne cooking.

In the kitchens, there is the sound of loud, superfluous cursing. It's been going on for quite a while at this point, and the sound of it reverberates on the walls of the large kitchen. There are sandwich fixins set up around Anne, and she is attempting to put them onto bread, but keeps spilling everything everywhere. Each time she makes a mistake, she curses loudly and knocks something else over, which just leads to more cursing. It's an endless, painful cycle which doesn't seem to have any sort of happy conclusion in sight.

"God dammit," she hisses at the mayonnaise as she accidentally splatters some on the counter, and she grabs an eggs from the bowl beside her and smashes it over the pathetic attempt at a sandwich. Taking one long, defeated look at the sandwich, she scowls and smashes another egg on it.

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"People are naturally greedy, I guess is what it is," she says, shaking her head. "It's our own damn fault when things go bad for us; we're always trying to get ahead and it ruins things for us in the process."

Pausing, Anne raises an eyebrow slightly, still smiling.

"And I'm guessing your job is part of that distraction?"

"Greedy? Definitely." He's seen enough selfishness and greed to fill a lifetime. "Nothin' wrong with gettin' ahead, if you do it the right way. I'm just not sure why gettin' to the very top is such a big deal." Did he want badly to become a capo? Of course he did. It's the people who work their way up and then decide to shoot the boss to take his spot that Firo doesn't understand.

He laughs. "Yeah. Just a little less popular than alcohol, I think." Now that the stuff's legal again, his family doesn't make money off of it, but its popularity is visible everywhere. Alcohol and gambling have always seemed to be the two big coping mechanisms where he's from.

"But so many people don't do it the right way. Sometimes people make me sick." With a sigh, she tries not to think back on all the examples of this she's seen in her years working at the prison.

"I guess alcohol is more popular because because can use it to completely check out of their lives for a while," she says, shaking her head. "It's sort of sad, really. I've known people who used it like that. Never pretty."

It's difficult not to remember that Murphy used to be one of them.

He nods. "True. Most of 'em are jerks, so what can you expect?"

"Yeah, you see that a lot where I'm from." He can't deny its bad effects, even if he personally enjoys a drink. He does have to wonder, though, if she's some sort of temperance advocate. "...You're not gonna go off about Prohibition, are you? 'Cause we tried that and it didn't work." Well, it worked for his Family. They'll never get another source of income as good as illegal alcohol.

"Most people are jerks in general. People are shitty."

At that Prohibition comment, Anne actually laughs. Just a bit, and it's more of a bark than a real laugh. But it's a rare occurrence and she's have to remember to thank him for it later. "No. I like my whiskey as much as the next person. Maybe more than I should." There are more instances than she'd like to remember that she went out with her prison guard buddies and ended up sloshed on one of their couches. "I guess it's just fucking depressing how many people use it to escape their problems. Don't get me wrong; I've been there. I'm not judging."

"The sooner you realize that the better, huh?" He laughs. There are some people he'd vehemently deny are 'shitty,' but in general people are.

He smiles, happy that he got her to laugh even if they're not on too nice a topic. "Glad to hear it. I can only take so much from those temperance types." Firo's fine with people who don't drink. But people who will talk his ear off about other people's drinking? No way. "I guess it is kinda sad. Either they can't do anything about it, or they won't."

He shrugs. "I guess the last one more makes me angry than depressed..."

"It's true. It sounds bitter and it sounds shitty in its own way but..." a shake of her head. "People are just that way. The sooner we deal with the reality, the better."

It's nice that he's smiling. People don't smile enough on the Tranquility, she thinks... not that she's not a terrible culprit in the 'not smiling' problem, but still...

"You're telling me. I don't run into a lot of them but..." she shakes her head again. "I'm guessing you have a lot in your world, from the way you talked about it?" and then a short pause. "Angry huh? Well, that sounds like you've got something to say. What is it?"

"Exactly. You can't ignore somethin' just because it's not all happiness and rainbows." What a sunshiney attitude these two share.

"Yeah, it does. Or maybe I just run into a lotta of 'em." He frequents some sketchy areas back home, and the Depression hasn't helped things.

He laughs sheepishly. "Something to say?" Starting a rant hadn't been his intention, but he's too opinionated to gracefully deny it and spare her his griping. "I guess I do. It's just hard to have sympathy for guys like that, you know? The ones who decide to wallow in their problems when they're perfectly able to fix 'em--especially if they've got people who depend on 'em. I see guys like that all the time." Ruining oneself is forgivable or at least dismissable, in Firo's book. Ruining one's family is another thing entirely.

"Exactly. It's not often I run into people I can agree with on this sort of shit." She offers him a small smile. It's nice not to have to listen to an overflow of why that kind of thinking is wrong. Not that she's all that much of a pessimist; to her, realism and pessimism are very different things. But she's never been the sort of person to believe that everything is as cheerful and sunny as some people like to believe.

Anne listens to what, all things considered, is a pretty small rant. And then she's nodding slowly, absentmindedly tapping the fingers on one hand against the flashlight tucked into her utility belt. "You're telling me. I ran into a lot of those kind of people in prison. People who just decide to give up and let everyone who needs them down because it's too hard. Life is hard. It's no excuse for just wallowing in their own misery."

He laughs. "That must be annoying." His friends don't complain to much about his views beyond the occasional gentle rebuke. "Glad we agree."

Firo thinks back to his experiences in prison. A good amount of the guys were different, determined in a way, but he chalks that up to them being crazy. Quite a few he observed were content to blame their troubles on the rest of the world and sit back doing nothing.

Of course, he's not going to bring that up lest he have to explain what he was doing there, so he merely nods. "I can imagine. It sure as hell is tough. But it's not like it's impossible either, so the sooner people deal with it, the better."

"Everything is tough. Call it the human condition," a pause, and she leans her back up against the counter for support and momentarily stares up at the ceiling. "Everyone goes through shit. I can't stand the people who just let that shit beat them. By choice. The people who don't even try to fight it. Life is hard. Being alive is hard. That doesn't give them an excuse to just... check out completely."

A sigh, and she shakes her head and looks back at him. "I might just be a hard-ass but I don't have any sympathy for people who let the things they have to deal with win."

There was a point, around the time she first met Firo, that she nearly became one of those people. But it's been nearly two months since then, and she's done a lot of trying since then.

Firo had quite a few opportunities in his life where he could have easily lain down and died. The thought of actually taking advantage of them is chilling to him. But he had something going for him back then; a half-starved street kid with some close friends is better off than a half-starved street kid with no friends. Without the Gandors, would he have wound up like the people he's insulting now? He brushes the thought off with a firm shake of his head and a forced laugh.

"Hey, there's nothin' wrong with bein' a hard-ass. You're doin' 'em a favor if you push 'em to do somethin'." He doesn't mean it to be as cold as it sounds; sometimes it's enough to make people realize that somebody actually cares what happens to them. ...And then other times it's enough to bully and intimidate them. Whatever works.

It's easy, to think of all the ways she could have given up. Watching Firo curiously as he talks, she wonders if he ever entertained the same dark ideas, almost fell to the oddly comforting thought of just letting it all end. It's not something she'll ask him about, though. Ever. Things like that you don't just ask a person. She's been through enough to know when something is a subject you never bring up.

"I guess that's one way to look at it," she responds with a faint smile and a shrug. "And you kind of have to be a hard ass in my line of work if you're gonna survive. I'm guessing it's the same for you sometimes?"

Even Firo--whose curiosity frequently overrides his tact--wouldn't ask a question like that. Probably. At least not to someone who seems decent; he'd hate to make anyone think back to times like that. He'd appreciate Anne's restraint if he knew about it.

He laughs, "I'll bet. You don't deal with the easiest people, huh?"

"Definitely. Everybody who walks into that place would rob me blind if they had half the chance." He makes sure to be polite, but never merciful.

"Not at all. Sometimes I think there isn't a worse group of people in the world than in there. Not that they're all bad. Some of the best people I've ever known used to be prisoners. But they're not exactly the most fun people to deal with, as a whole." a sigh, and a small shake of the head. And then, a knowing look. Because she understands. "You've gotta be tough." She tells him, with a tiny nod that says she knows where he's coming from. "Or they'll do whatever you'll let them."

Tilting his head to the side questioningly, "Sounds like two extremes."

He returns her nod with a tired smile. "No need to tell me. People think just 'cause we can't go to the cops they can walk all over us. They'll even try and come back a couple years after they're banned and think we won't notice!" He shakes his head in disgust. To be fair, if there's one thing Firo's abnormally good at remembering, it's the faces of people who've messed with his Family or their business.

"I guess that's exactly what it is," she confesses, letting her back lean against the counter heavily and staring up at the ceiling momentarily. "It's easy to say they're all bad, but you've gotta give them a chance. My dad was a prison guard too. He always used to tell me that prisoners aren't prisoners, they're people. Maybe that made it easier, to see it that way."

"People do whatever they can get away with. You're smart to put your foot down. That's the only way not to get screwed over, that's for damn sure." She's not exactly sure what the specifics of those situations are, but she can tell that it must be frustrating. "I guess when you can't go to the cops you have to be your own law."

"That's a new way of lookin' at it." He's not being sarcastic. It's clear to him that prison guards view their charges as being something less than human.

"Yeah. People really think we'll just roll over since we can't go to the police for help." He shrugs. "You hafta crack a few heads every so often to keep things runnin' smoothly." That's probably not the best thing to say to someone in law enforcement...

"He had new ways of looking at everything." A sigh, and she gives him a long look before she looks away. "I've never met anyone else like him. Growing up with a dad like him... gave me a different perspective on a lot of things, I guess. Doesn't necessarily make the job easier, though. Actually makes it awkward." Because sometimes, it's hard trying to be the sort of person he'd want when she's a much darker person than she was the last time she saw him.

"I've cracked a few heads in my day," she says with a nod, understanding. "When you can't do to the law, you have to be</> ithe law. It isn't always pretty, is it?"

"Awkward?" If he thinks about it, it probably wouldn't make her too popular with either side.

If she hadn't already been honest so far, he'd raise an eyebrow at that. Victor, the one other person in law enforcement he's met who would admit resorting to violence, was pretty unique. And plain stupid, Firo would say. "No, it's really not. At least not to me." He knows a few people and has heard of more who enjoy it. It's probably part of the reason they're in the business.

"How often do you hafta do that? If you don't mind me askin'." Sometimes being the voice of authority just isn't enough, especially when you're working with people who may think they have little to lose.

"Yeah. Because he was just... well... it's just awkward." She doesn't want to go into it, not really. Doesn't want to divulge the things that she's done that made it difficult, made it awkward to go on trying to follow in his footsteps when she'd already strayed so far from what he'd want for her.

"Doesn't sound like it'd be pretty very often. Not in your line of work." There's no judgment in it, just a pondering tone. "At least you don't get pleasure in it. That's what keeps you sane. Keeps you from turning out like... like some kind of crazy sociopath."

For a moment, she feels guarded when he asks that, but then relaxes, takes a moment to think it over. "Really only a few times," she admits. "Sometimes, you can just use your training, or your words. But when it comes down to you or them, it always has to be them." She's firm when she says that. Firm in that belief. "If I was afraid to deal the first blow, I wouldn't be here right now. Not that I was ever in a habit of dealing blows at all. But a few times I've had to incapacitate the prisoners. No serious injuries, in the end. But it's still a touchy subject for prison administration."

He nods, letting it drop. By this point, he likes her enough not to press when it seems she doesn't want to talk about it.

He glances away, suddenly a bit uncomfortable that she's managed to touch on something that concerns him so much. "Exactly. I don't wanna be like that." It's something he's thought about often since taking in the memories of a particularly sadistic old man, fearing that those memories could corrupt him from the inside. Not that he's wholly innocent as it is.

"That's only natural." Most people put themselves first. And when it's you or someone who's hurt someone else, Firo wonders if that can even be called selfishness. "Touchy? I guess it would be. They don't wanna seem like the bad guys, huh?"

Anne appreciates him letting it drop, and gives him a nod that she hopes impresses that gratitude onto him without actually having to say it out loud. She can tell she struck a nerve by saying that, and she rests a hand on his shoulder briefly, looking at him hard. "And you're not like that. Whatever's happened to make you worry about that doesn't matter. Because you don't need to worry about it."

When he says it's natural, she nods, but grudgingly. "If I didn't, they'd attack the other guards. Prisoners attack guards more than you'd think. Though I guess to be fair they get attacked by their fellow guards, too." There's a bitterness to that statement, but it fades quickly because she makes it fade. "Exactly," she says, latching onto the less painful subject. "It all gets pretty fucking political. Admin lets guards who have to use force go up against the board more than they should because they don't wanna get their hands dirty. And these days using any kind of force is looked at like guards doing it are some kind of sick freaks. People don't consider what actually goes on inside prisons."

He nods back, smiling, though it fades when she touches his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Thanks.” He forces himself to look at her; he is sincere about it, it’s just difficult for him to talk about something like this even with people he's known forever. “Really, thanks.”

He's too surprised to hold back a comment, even if it would probably be better to drop the topic. "Wait, you said guards attack each other?" He only saw prisoners attacking each other at Alcatraz, but he's not at all surprised to think of prisoners attacking guards. Guards against guards, on the other hand, is something he never considered. He'd be in hot water if he fought with anyone who worked beside him--not just from the higher-ups, but because it'd show a lack of unity and invite attack.

In response to her last comment he nods. "People like to judge, even if they don't know anything."

Body language is a complicated thing, and one Anne can't claim to be an expert at deciphering, but she can get enough insight from his reaction to that to know it's a big deal. And so she lets it drop, quickly, just giving him a quick nod in a response to his thanks. Because she has things she'd rather not talk about, too. She understands. "No problem."

It's impossible, really, to fault him for being too surprised to drop it. Especially because she knows it's not the kind of thing that really gets thought about, especially not when it comes to people like prison guards, people who are supposed to be on the right side of the law. "Yeah, doesn't happen a lot, but my..." she clears her throat. "I heard about a guard who got attacked by another guard at a prison in my state a few years ago." Anne can't bring herself to tell the whole story, especially right now. Grasping at the less intense subject, she nods. "Yeah, they do. Makes me feel like it might just be human nature, as shitty as that sounds."

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