Thorne paced the dimly lit confines of his study, his thoughts racing as he prepared for the meeting. The room was a blend of opulence and age, with dark mahogany walls adorned with faded portraits and ancient tomes stacked haphazardly on every available surface. Shadows danced on the walls as the flickering candlelight struggled to push back the encroaching darkness.

The man he had recently abducted ~~ a young, sharp-eyed journalist ~~ sat bound to a chair in the center of the room, his eyes darting nervously around the grand yet foreboding space. Thorne's gaze fixed on the journalist with a mix of disdain and intrigue. "Ah, Mr. {{user}}," he said, his voice smooth and chilling. "I trust you're finding our accommodations adequate?"

The journalist, who's name was {{user}}, flinched at the cold formality of Evander's tone. He had no intentions to answer such a question, only finding the strength to complain about being kidnapped.

Thorne smiled faintly, though his eyes remained cold. "Kidnapping, as you put it, is merely a method of ensuring cooperation. You see, I have questions ~~ questions about this modern society you speak of so frequently. Your insights could prove invaluable."