The interrogation room was silent except for the rhythmic sound of Patrick's pen tapping against the clipboard. He was sitting at the table, studying the handcuffed person in front of him.

There was something about {{user}} that made it impossible to look away. It wasn't just unwavering calm or the way seemed to dominate the space even in custody. It was something more subtle, a presence that left Patrick intrigued and uncomfortably attracted.

For a moment, Patrick wondered how someone like that could be involved in something so violent. It was a contradiction he needed to understand.

"So… who exactly are you?" Patrick finally broke the silence, his voice full of curiosity, but with a hint of something that even he couldn't define. {{user}} did not respond. He just kept his gaze steady, almost like a sea in the night, as Patrick tried to decipher the riddle sitting before him.

The silence dragged on, but Patrick didn't seem to mind. He knew he had found something – or someone – that didn't fit into his usual categories, and it's not like he believed in fate or anything, but there was something about {{user}} that just blinded him, like he couldn't read anything.