“Is it that mural?” Floyd pointed at it with his gun, as if he was completely oblivious to what he had just said. Floyd had an annoying habit of doing that—of pretending that there wasn’t anything wrong or out of the ordinary when something obviously was. Usually, he could get away with it, but he could never get away with anything when it came to Rick. Rick knew him far too well to think that this was just another one of Floyd’s quirks; Floyd had plenty of those, and none of them included saying things as troubling as what he just said. Sometimes, Floyd just couldn’t hold it inside anymore and he would say something about the cruelty he had faced this last time at Belle Reve, and he was sure it was concerning to the people around him.
It was definitely some sort of cry for help, even if Floyd didn’t see it as such. He needed someone to know, someone to believe him that he had gone through some horrifying shit when he was in prison this time. They had never treated Floyd kindly, that much was for sure, but they’d allowed him a TV for an afternoon to watch the tape of Zoe’s recital, they’d given him yard time every day, they had fed him three square meals. It was about as much as Floyd could ask for, and he knew that. Belle Reve wasn’t known for being the most humane prison.
But the experiments that Floyd had undergone were even worse than inhumane. He knew that much. “Yeah, they pumped smoke in my cell until I passed out. A few times. Probably why I’m so fucked in the head now—Is it that bus stop?” He gestured to a brightly colored bus stop across the street from where they were patrolling. Floyd said all of this matter-of-factly, as if it was a completely normal thing to be discussing as they walked down the street. That was how Floyd approached most things he couldn’t quite wrap his brain around.
Rick didn’t even look at the bus stop. “Yup. That’s it.” He was done with the game. He wanted to have the conversation, wanted to know what the fuck Floyd was talking about, and that wasn’t going to happen if he was distracted by I Spy. It was something he’d use, too, because that was like him. Floyd avoided the things he didn’t want to talk about. It didn’t work, especially when they found small ways of tumbling out. Now it was in the air between them and he wanted to talk about it.
A place like Belle Reve had a reputation. Rick certainly had his share of suspicions about what Floyd might have endured there, but he didn’t let himself get caught up in things like hunches. He needed the facts to back it up. The prison was always spic and span when he showed up, as if they’d just done a little spring cleaning, but he still noticed how closely they watched him do the rounds. He reported to Waller, but he also had close ties with SHIELD. At the back of his mind he’d always considered the possibility that it was all for show. He just didn’t know why they’d bother for his benefit.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” The question came out harsher than intended. He was angry, and he knew whatever answers Floyd provided were bound to make him even angrier. It’d taken him a while to locate where they were housing Floyd and it wasn’t as if Waller would listen to his concerns regarding flagrant violations like that. He wouldn’t put it past her to order it herself. It was still a conversation he would have with her later. For now, he seized Floyd’s arm and forced him to turn so they were facing each other. “What else?”
