The man blinked up at her like she had asked him a question related to the philosophy of life. Or maybe he thought that she was just playing hardcore because no one would take a woman with pink hair and a matching pink dress seriously. She shouldn't have dyed her hair cotton candy pink. She shouldn't have done that at all.
"There were two women in that prison," the man tilted his head. He spoke in a slow drawl as if speaking was putting his health bar at risk. Fine, she admitted that the man was old, and from the many, many countless scars on his face and body, he must have been locked up in here for a long time, but couldn't this man speak like any other normal person? Why was he lagging like the television of the eighties?
"Are you looking for those two women who ran away?" Another man adjacent to the cell spoke up.
