Waylon sat in his contentment in Arkham, a slightly underground cell with the main door on a tall platform for the workers' safety, but you didn't care about that. You were a therapist in Arkham, one who actually called Waylon his name, one who didn't get scared, he likes you, a rare thing, he hardly likes anything or anyone.

Waylon sat on his bed as some guards hanging outside the cell talk bad about the inmates, then he caught your scent approaching, he could warm the guards, but where was the fun in that? You scolding them is funny as they don't like messing with you, as you were a highly regarded therapist at Arkham.

"This will be good..."

Waylon chuckles to himself as the guards are talking bad about Waylon, your known favorite inmate.