Warren ignored the other man, focusing, instead on the boy. Yes, indeed, they where all under orders, orders that his morbid partner enjoyed, perhaps, too much. But blame for the poor condition of their youngest charge would nonetheless be placed on his captains shoulders, and therefore on his.He had no wish to join the slowly decaying bodies lost in the maze of the vast prison he had looked over for so many years. He knew all too well what happened to a man once he reached the darkest depths of despair, and that was the only destination one could reach, here amongst the tombs of the living.
He leaned the inmate against the wall, but the boy's legs refused to hold him up. He swore again, vehemently. Sitting him gently on the ground, he searched himself for anything he could use to wipe away the worst of the incriminating grime. "Water," he commanded. Jule left, obligingly.
The prisoner's fits slowed, and gradually stopped. By time Jule got back with a bucket of water, he was staring blankly at the wall in front of him. This scared Warren most of all, for it was a dead mans stare.He slapped the boy gently on the face; he was unresponsive. "Shiot,"Jule groaned. "What are we going to do?"