Hello then, allow me to reintroduce myself.
The man said, leaning back in his seat.
Victor quietly observed his surroundings. The house was exactly as he had left it—frayed carpets, faded drapes, worn-out furniture.
The air was damp, and thick with dust. A recently ignited fireplace cackled nearby, just far enough away that he could gain no real relief from its warmth.
The tattooed lady was no longer present. In her place stood several vicious-looking men, each one staring at him with a glint of something unhinged in their eyes.
A bottle, a wooden stand, an axe.
Although the situation seemed bleak, Victor, out of instinct more than hope, began memorising the position of anything that could aid in his escape.
The tension in the air was unbearable, but he kept calm, eyes constantly shifting in subtle motion.
"So where were we? Ah yes, that's right. I was about to reintroduce myself."
