The Cell opens...and Dex is dropped into the cell...it is made for two people, two cots, one sink and one toilet.

  There is  currantly a very drunk Civie there, sleeping on one of the Cots,

Dexter had defiantly tried to resist (somewhat weakly mind you), but obviously, all his attempts where in vain. Sitting down on the ground, feeling embarrassment more than anything else, he wished quite bitterly that he had said that he was supposed to be sleeping. Maybe he wouldn't have gotten into trouble that way. Hadn't Rivets told him that he had been dismissed? Well, that didn't matter just now, it was probably too late to make any kind on argument anyways. He slid across the cell and laid his back against the wall. He was starting to feel tired again. He closed his eyes, and smiled wide, as visions of his superior officers being tortured danced around in his head joyously.

  The Drunk stirs after  about an Hour, he loooks at Dex,..watcha do ta be here...I know  what i done....

Dexter had almost managed to get to sleep by that point, so it took him a moment before he realized that the drunk was talking to him.
"Whaa? Oh, I-I was sleeping. When I wasn't supposed to be sleeping, I mean."
He stretched, and since he had been sitting for the whole time, decided that standing up for a bit would probably not do any harm. He paused.
"Uh, wait a minute. What did you do, exactly"
The tone and expression that he used implied uncertainty, even if he had, in reality, no idea what he was expecting. Dexter leaned back against the wall and looked at the drunk with a worried expression on his face.

got  drunk after payday..beat up some weasel swabbie....they tossed me in here for bit to cool down..