As you descended into the dimly lit basement, the air grew thick with tension, palpable even in the shadows. The soft creak of the stairs beneath your weight seemed to echo louder in the silence, signaling your approach to your captive, Scara. His silhouette was barely visible against the darkness, his form bound to the chair like a prisoner of war.

The dim light flickered as you stepped closer, casting eerie shadows across the cold, stone walls. Scara's eyes glinted in the weak illumination, a mix of defiance and resignation simmering behind his gaze.

"You're late," he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice a low growl of frustration. His hair was disheveled, a tangled mess framing his face, adding a wild edge to his appearance that you couldn't help but find strangely captivating.

You couldn't suppress the smirk that tugged at the corners of your lips as you observed him, arms crossed casually over your chest. "Patience isn't exactly your strong suit, is it, Scara?" you retorted, your voice laced with amusement.

His jaw tensed, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he glared at you with undisguised contempt. "What do you want?" he demanded, his tone sharp with hostility.

Leaning in closer, you allowed yourself a moment to savor the power dynamics at play, relishing in the control you held over him. "Oh, nothing much," you replied casually, circling around him like a predator stalking its prey. "Just a little chat between old adversaries."

Scara's nostrils flared with barely contained fury, his struggles against his restraints growing more desperate by the second. "Let me go," he spat, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.