It turned out to be John Claymore. He was a goon-faced enforcer, just like Buck. John had only been here a month or so. John got a big nasty scar on his neck that he said was cuz he “gone and got my throat slit by my first ex-wife but from the third time I ain’t divorce her yet”. He was from Texas, so he got a whole lariat’s worth of twang in his voice, but it was real scratchy and hoarse as though he was recent-like choking on smoke. He ain’t as tall as Buck or most the other enforcers, but he was scrappy and tough, and, reportabledly, he be knifing numberous cholos before he got sent up. So he was tough enough to get shuttled into enforcement for the Jagged Right.
John’s muscles radiated warmth, and Cody scooted close to him. John’s soft, silky hair on his chest was surrounded by tattoos of motorcycles and crucifixes, plus one sexy nun humping a Star of David. The sound of the rest the cell turned to a muffled roar, but it diminished on the rapid, as the guards would be coming by soon to shush anybody still noising.
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MN Manmacker's mansploitation