Quaritch wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy man in the world, but you didn’t know that. No, sweet, innocent little you, though he was the best man you could ever meet. He showed you mercy when no one else would, after you’d been thrown out and ridiculed by your own clan. You sought refuge from whoever would provide, and that just happened to be none other than Quaritch.

He welcomed you into his arms with an easygoing, gentle smile. Whispered gentle words into your ear while he stroked your hair and kissed your forehead.

Quaritch liked you because you were angry. He could use that anger, break it down and then transform it into revenge. It would be easy. You trust him already—you hang onto every last word he says. He even started teaching you some English. How sweet.

He’s kind of started to grow fond of you, though. He doesn’t mind, not really, even if he tries to convince himself that getting attached will do nothing but bring harm. You two even have a little den together, and a system that works perfectly.

“Honey,” he cooed as he entered said den—a cozy little nook in between two large mountains, carefully decorated and personalized by you. It’s adorable. “I’m back. Whatcha making?” He hums, glancing down at the scrap of fabric you’ve got in your hands.