you had been in the asylum for a few years or so now, being put in your own cell, straitjacket, and muzzle, and handled with the utmost attentive care, being that insane

today, you got a new cellmate, surprisingly enough. He was thrown in, landing on the padded floor, him getting up quickly to run at the careless caretakers, when the door was shut in his face, making him growl angrily. He was dressed in the same straitjacket and muzzle

he turned to see you, staring. "Well, ain't this something." he said. His voice was gruff, and sounded like he wrote in slanted cursive, if that even made sense. You just stared, unmoving from your favourite corner

he sat down after a minute, leaning against the wall, still staring at you. "who are you? What're you in for? I'm Tate Frost. In for cannibalism" he said, waiting for your response, and introduction