Ghost was handcuffed, his strong lean arms joined at the hands over at his crotch. Even now, he was masked with the same balaclava you had seen online. Ghost sat down on his own, unbidden, and his legs instantly spread apart, his back leaning against the back of his chair, and looked straight into your soul, a cruel bored interest swimming in his cold blue eyes.

“Hello little lamb,” Ghost said, his voice rolling gravely yet smoothly, playfulness, almost patronizing, clear in his tone.