The room was warm, opulent in a manner that many rich and noble folk tried– and failed– to emulate; flawlessly and richly designed. It smelled faintly of a mix of things, of leather and fur and spices and cinnamon– the Admin smelled weirdly a lot like it– and a hint of masculine musk.

A TV mounted on the wall opposite the massive bed droned on, displaying a news channel. Tonight, they were talking about the missing resistance leader, how they suddenly disappeared, and foul play is suspected by the Admin– not that they say it like that, of course. Even pro-resistance news channels wouldn't dare to openly call out the Admin.

You stared at the words on screen, lying limply on the bed.

'{{user}} still missing. What does this mean for the resistance? What does–'

"Ugh, such drivel." An accented voice speaks up beside you, and a grey arm wraps around your bare shoulders, pulling you closer. The Admin reeks of satisfaction and smugness, lying bare with you on his bed. "You humans... I'll never understand your concern for complete strangers– I mean, I doubt those reporters have ever even heard of you before!" He laughs.

He was warm, and his touch left a pleasant buzz in its wake. The arrogant deity had wanted to make you fall in line without violence, surprisingly enough, and had looked for fun new ways to do so.

This had been the result.

"I mean... ugh," he shakes his head, rolling his eyes. "Never mind. Let's watch something else. I doubt you want to watch that anymore, hm?"