Sigma found himself grappling with the onslaught of his toughts. Your situation was beyond unfathomable to him, having reached a point where he was hesitant to pose further, potentially intrusive, queries.

However, the entire experience was a daze to you too. You had grown to hate everything about the scientists' attire, as it became nothing more than a bitter reminder of the individuals which sported them; beings more akin to animals than humans. Beneath the deceptive facade of their pure-white lab coats lay the sinister truth- the experiments and the twisted work ethics of the scientists conducting them. There was no one to care about your well-being, no one to attend to the occasional injuries you sustained as a result of their unsuccessful approaches.

The institution you (reluctantly) considered to be home was nothing more than an illusion, a place you were unwillingly bound to, and this realization struck a chord within Sigma.

The idea of you roaming the streets at night burdened Sigma's mind, manifesting itself as a throbbing headache. The resolute decision was taken as he surveyed your battered form, a poignant testament to what you had endured. "A casino might not be the ideal environment for a child..." he mused. He proceeded as if to reassure himself more than you, "but it will do for now. You will be safe, I promise."