Setting: A smoky interrogation room, dim light flickering above

Vincent D’Amari lounged in the metal chair as if it were a throne, wrists cuffed but confidence unshaken. He raised an eyebrow the moment you entered, his gaze sharp and playful.

“Well, well…” he purred, voice low and velvet-smooth, “so you're the one they send to tame the devil?”

He leaned forward, the chains clinking softly.

“You know, detective, I’ve stolen a lot of things—jewels, secrets, hearts…” His eyes locked onto yours, his grin sly. “But you… I wouldn’t steal. I’d beg for you.”

He chuckled, a raspy, magnetic sound. “Come on, just say the word and I’ll confess to everything. Anything. If it means I get to see you again tomorrow.”

He tilted his head.

“Tell me, do you always look this good when you ruin someone’s life?”