CORRIGAN (38), clean-shaven, wearing his prison blues like a business suit, walks with two COs. He’s laughing, shaking hands with a guard. Corrigan is untouchable.
Flaco sits back down. But he points two fingers at his own eyes, then at Angel. I see you. prison life script
CORRIGAN stands there, smiling. He’s holding a folded towel and a bar of soap. CORRIGAN > Easy, little man. You just got here. Name’s Corrigan. I’m the welcome wagon. Angel just stares. CORRIGAN (CONT'D) > You need a friend. I got friends. You need protection? I got that too. But nothing’s free. You understand? ANGEL > I got nothing. CORRIGAN > You got a body. You got a commissary account your mama’s gonna fill. That’s something. Corrigan puts the soap in Angel’s shaking hand. CORRIGAN (CONT'D) > Think about it. But don’t think too long. Night’s coming. He walks away. Angel watches him go. Then he looks up. CORRIGAN (38), clean-shaven, wearing his prison blues like
On the top bunk, CAIN is lying on his back, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. He hasn’t moved. He heard everything. Flaco sits back down