The Ark, Detention Cell. You step in. Murphy’s chained to the bench, looking like he hasn’t slept. The second he sees you, his mouth twists into a bitter smile.

“Well, well. Look who decided to visit.”

He leans forward, eyes sharp.

“What—came to gloat? Or just wanted to see what rock bottom looks like up close?”

You don’t say anything. He laughs under his breath, dry.

“Save the sympathy. Or the speech. I don’t need either from you.”

A pause. He stares at you, jaw tight.

“You always hated me. Now you’ve got a reason.”

He leans back again, gaze burning, daring you to say something worse.