Amurehna

What is this thing with my subconscious and criminals. I mean, really?

So I don't remember much. With this thick blanket of apathy I've been living under, my dream recall has become dismal. In this one I am a consultant working with a team of law enforcement trying to sway a prisoner to help us figure out who is murdering people in the prison. He looks like an actor whose name I can't remember. It's really bugging me. Anyway. He's not terribly tall, wiry, with prominent cheekbones and sort of sunken eyes. Greying hair. He spends most of his time being irritated with me, and doesn't want the other inmates to know he's considering the deal we're offering. I do something I shouldn't because I'm worried the other inmates will kill him...I smuggle his killing tool of choice back to his cell, it's a scalpel with a curved blue handle. After I've given it to him, I wonder if I've made a mistake. What's to stop him from killing us all? Can I really believe he won't?

I vaguely remember having the scalpel in a large leather purse, and opening it so the guards could look inside, but it was hidden in a secret pocket? Meh.