Séamus heard Maceo's voice and stopped scratching, looking up at his cellmate.

It's your friend!
Everyone's out to get you! Even him!

Séamus managed to mumble out some words, "H-hi. Y-yeah, I need my pills." he told Maceo, "I haven't had them in a couple of weeks, I don't know if any of the guards would have them."

You don't want to get rid of us, do you!?
Please don't make us go!

Hernando sits at a table in the middle of the cell block with Miguel, playing poker. He isn't fully occupied with the game, instead he looks around. Who else is a drug pusher here? He'd either have to take him out, or go on with an agreement with him.
"How are you going to get the stuff in?" asks Miguel with a low, shaky voice. Hernando shrugs.
"Probably with the mail. Seems to be the best way at the moment."
"How about the kitchen?"
Hernando frowns.
"The kitchen?"
"Yeah, I overheard the guards saying that they are going to put all the prisoners to work, with certain inmates in charge.
Miguel throws an uneasy smirk at Hernando. Hernando nods lightly to Miguel in agreement. If they could find a way to get in charge of the prison, the drug trade would be in their hands.

"Here. Now you're in my debt."

Diego Picked up the Cigarette from his pillow and placed it in his mouth. He hadn't smoked since he was a teenager, but there was hardly a reason to refrain any longer. He placed it between his lips and fished inside of his shoe for the matchbook he had smuggled into the prison. With great care, he tore a match out and struck it against the strike strip and set the delicate match aflame. Gently, he brought the flame to the tip of the cigarette and inhaled slowly to light the cancerous stick of tobacco. A feeling of light headedness washed over him and a strange sense of calm overcame the Latino man. Without smoking in years, this first cigarette would feel almost euphoric. "But at what cost?" The sudden realization hit Diego like a runaway train. Less than an hour at Oz and he was already in debt to somebody. "Fuck! I'm such an idiot!" There was no telling what Red might have him do to repay the debt. Diego knew that in prison, cigarettes was often a form of, if not THE, form of currency. Diego might have just put himself into a much worse situation than he already was with this debt. Red could have him do anything to repay this debt. He just hoped that whatever it was, that it didn't put him into a violent situation. "Even if I just defend myself in this place I'll be setting myself up for someone else's revenge." Slowly and with a shaky hand, he took another long drag from the cigarette. "Guess we'll just have to wait and see..."

Red smirked as he seen Diego's face in worry though he did not say what he needed he knew it would come in handy later. "Just Wait" he whispered to himself waiting for, waiting for something important for him to happen.

Red knew many people in Oz who would do anything for him though they do not know about Thomas and Red's 'Arrangement'. If they did Officer Maynes would not be so 'understanding' with Red.

Maceo scratched his jawline. He liked to take care of people in his organization. And at current times, he would have to communicate with his distributors in someway anyway. "I'll work on it." Was the only thing he said to Séamus before he walked out of his cell, whistling all the way. Camden was surely not your average kingpin. He didn't flaunt around his status, degrade women, and apparently, to outsiders of Blue Face he wasn't too ruthless. But most people knew by just the sight of him that he was something... Special, different possibly. And that's just something that came with booming drug line in the jail. He overheard some banging, and then shouting, but he quickly shook it off. Going to the middle of the cellblock he could honestly care less if anyone saw or overheard what was about to happen.

He grinned as he walked towards a small group in the corner - fellow Blue Faces. Since he was obviously one of the longest running members of the group, Camden had made sure to memorize what the different 'lines' looked like. Which was just what they called the different 'factions' inside of Blue. The Distribution line. Their job was rather obvious -- they got the goods, and helped fuel the prisoner's habits. That being drug addiction or homesickness. They usually had their sleeved rolled up for some strange reason if their uniform allowed it. If they weren't able to do that they'd just cut designs into the side of their hair; two small triangles parallel from each other with small lines cut through them. Maybe the ones that had just taken their meds were itching heavily, or just looked glossed over like robots. he looked back to briefly see just two men inside of cell block. Maceo cleared his throat.

"Gentlemen and gentlewoman," Two of them were male, one looked fairly average and the other one looked like he could smash a baby into a wall. Obviously on meds. His eyes were glassy. "For your own sake I hope you have Seroquel on you."

The average one, whose name he could only remember as Dylan, spoke in hushed tones. "Right here, in front of-"

"I'm not the type to think I'm invincible," He interrupted. "I just need probably four fifty m's, yeah? I already know that all of you Dibs always have lighters on you, so I'll need one of those, too."

The woman nodded whilst nonchalantly digging into her pocket. She awkwardly initiated a hug with Zipply, and slid the contraband into his back pockets. The holy feeling of cold steel pressed against his flesh... Felt, well, good. Excitement ran throughout his blood. She spoke some gibberish to make it seem legit, and just like that, Maceo was off with a few pills and a lighter. Drugs and a lighter. Great.