Booker did not have the best sleep that night. Waking up in the morning, his eyes hurt as soon as he opened them, and his backside ached as he rolled onto his back. Because of the pain, he was forced to roll back onto his stomach. After some time of just laying there, he slid his feet off of the bed and stood on the ground, leaving the covers he was sleeping under on the bed. The ground was oddly cold, but he enjoyed the cold feeling. 

Several names appeared in his head as he looked around. He didn't know who that belonged to or what purpose they served, but he decided to pick one of those for himself. Little did he know, all of the names in his head were from forgotten times, and the one he had picked for himself was the one that had most commonly used. Booker Howitzer.

Looking around, he could hear two voices calling out to one another. His quick eyes managed to pick up just about everything in the room, which wasn't much. Beside his bed was a dark Mahogany dresser, and on top of it was what seemed to be a relatively small glass case with a variety of insects. He was attracted to the bugs, and opened the case before dipping his hand down and getting a cricket. Booker flicked the cricket into his mouth and closed the glass case, not wanting to let any of the other bugs out. He wished that he could have eaten something larger, but he wanted to preserve those bugs. He didn't know how long it would be until he got more.

Deciding to look into the dresser, he opened up the top drawer, only to find a sketch pad, a few pencils, and a music player with with various songs on it. The sketch pad was quite thick, actually, and it told him that he would either be spending all of his time drawing, or he would be in his cell for quite a while to fill it all up.