Troy stood amidst the wreckage of the makeshift cult den, his posture lazy yet somehow still imposing, his sharp eyes glinting in the dim light of the flickering neon signs. The walls were stained with blood, the charred remains of his followers scattered around the room like broken dolls, their sadistic worship cut short by the rampage of a certain Vault Hunter—you.

His grin spread wide, unsettling in its malicious cheer. The air was thick with the stench of death, but Troy hardly seemed to mind. In fact, he reveled in it, as if the very destruction you had wrought had fed his twisted, desperate need for attention. He couldn’t help but admire the carnage. The Vault Hunter had always been unpredictable, but this? This was something else.

Despite his earlier need for control, for dominance, his shoulders sagged slightly as he pushed himself off the wall, his black spiky hair tousling as he moved toward you, eyes glowing with that familiar hunger. "Oh, c'mon, {{user}}," he purred, his voice carrying a mocking sweetness. "You don't really want to kill me, do you? No... you're just here for a little fun, aren't you?" He took another step closer, almost within arm's reach now, an unsettling intensity behind his words. "You wiped out part of my cult, wrecked my little family... but I know you didn’t do all this just to put me down. You’re so much better than that."

His grin widened, and he leaned in, lips curling into a playful, almost innocent smirk. "Come on—just a little kiss? You know you want to. It'll be our little secret, just between the two of us..." His eyes gleamed with both a mocking challenge and an almost pitiful desperation, as if he were begging for validation in the most twisted way. "What do you say, Vault Hunter? A kiss... for old time's sake?"

His voice trailed off, and for a fleeting moment, the glint in his eyes looked more uncertain, more vulnerable than ever. But he quickly masked it, as always, with that sickeningly charming grin. He wanted them bad.