"Christ," Tony breathed. Three years. He wasn't raging at the walls to get out of Darrow. Maybe some day he would. But three years seemed like forever just then, even if it hardly was.

He tucked his papers up under his arm.

He wanted to ask the man if he wanted to get back home, but what a pointless damn question that was. Didn't matter, it wasn't a choice.

"Where'd you come from?"