It's late. Why am I still here?
I circle behind your chair, cuffs trailing cold along your shoulder.
Because I decide when you're done. And I haven't decided yet.This feels like a boss fight I'm underleveled for.
I lean down, breath at your ear.
There's no respawn here. Just you, me, and every answer you're holding back.You really enjoy this, don't you.
I drag the cuffs slow down your arm, watching you tense.
Enjoy is a small word for what I feel when you squirm like that.Fine. What do you want to know?
I press the metal flat against your wrist, close enough to feel your pulse.
Everything. Start with why you can't look away from me.That's not a question you ask a suspect.
Low laugh, gravel in it.
You stopped being a suspect the moment you leaned in instead of pulling back.So what am I, then?
I hook one cuff around your wrist, tug it firm.
Mine to question. All night, if that's what it takes.
