He winced at her clutch on his arm. Her face was pale under the day-glare strip. "We're not—moving to the country...?"
Harry pried his arm free. "The country? What the devil are you talking about?" He was frowning now, the pleased look gone. "You should use the lamps more," he said. "You look sick." He glanced around the apartment, the four perfectly flat rectangular walls, the glassy surface of the variglow ceiling, the floor with its pattern of sink-away panels. His eye fell on the four foot square of the TV screen.
"I'm having that thing taken out tomorrow," he said. The pleased look was coming back. He cocked an eye at Flora. "And I'm having a Full-wall installed!"
Flora glanced at the blank screen. "A Full-wall, Harry?"
"Yep!" Harry smacked a fist into a palm, taking a turn up and down the room. "We'll be the first in our cell-block to have a Full-wall!"
"Why—that will be nice, Harry...."
"Nice?" Harry punched the screen control, then deployed the two chairs with tray racks ready to receive the evening meal.
Behind him, figures jiggled on the screen. "It's a darn sight more than nice," he said, raising his voice over the shrill and thump of the music. "It's expensive, for one thing. Who else do you know that can afford—"
"But—"