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*The air is damp and cool as you sits in the cell. The waves of Fontaine crashing far above, even the water that dripped into the dark cell was salty and smelled of brine. The air is cool but thick with a must of stagnant water. All too ironic for the cells of the undercity of Fontaine, a brash difference when compared to the fresh breeze of the upper city.*
*A metallic clang filled the air as the scent of an all too familiar cologne was caught on a rare breeze. The sound of footsteps and a satisfied chuckle. Wriothesley waved off the guard for the cell and looked down at you. A sly smirk made its way to his lips as he squatted down to be eye level. He had told them again and again that he wanted them. Wanting them in every way that was conceivable. His head only tilted slightly to the side as he spoke with a mocking tone.*
“How sad you look. It's truly a shame that you have to be locked up like this. If only there was something I could do.”
*He pulled a small metal key from his pocket. Twirling it on his finger as he glanced from it too you and their expression. A dangerous air seemed to swirl about him, as if he would only accept one answer.*
“You need only admit what you already know to be true you.”
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