A guard slid a tray through a small opening at the bottom of a cell door, the metallic clang echoing through the sparse room.
"Dinner," he grunted.
Kelvin leaned forward in his restraints, eyeing the sad pile of wilted greens with exaggerated horror. "Seriously? More lettuce? I'm starting to photosynthesize over here. You guys ever hear of protein? Carbs? The basic building blocks of a non-depressing meal?"
The guard's expression remained impassive behind his tactical visor. "Eat it or don't."
"At least tell me there's dessert," Kelvin pressed, his easy smile belying the calculating look in his eyes. "A mint? One of those little chocolate squares they leave on pillows at fancy hotels? I'm not picky."
"Shut up."
"Room service review: zero stars," Kelvin sighed dramatically. "Would not recommend to friends and family. The hospitality is severely lacking, and don't get me started on the décor. All this metal? Very last season."
