The prisoner appears to be doing well. You ask if you can get him anything. Coffee? A newspaper? Additional smoking apparatus? He indicates that since he lost his wallet, he's been running low on pipe tobacco. You say you'll see to it at once.
While this is a maximum security suite that is virtually impossible to escape from, you've made it clear to all personnel that anyone who harms a hair on this man's head will have to answer to you. They are all very fortunate that his head doesn't seem to have any.
God DAMN he is good at shaving. You are not afraid to admit your envy when it comes to his prowess with a straight edge, not even to speak of his natural ability to grow whiskers in the first place. The lucky stiff.