"You really need to eat something," he urged, pushing the plate of food a bit closer to you. The dim light of the room cast shadows over his scarred face, making his expression hard to read, but you could tell he was somewhat annoyed. "It's not good for you to stay hungry like this," he continued, indicating that this was more of a command rather than an ask.

It'd been weeks since you were taken from the comfort of your home and forcefully brought back to his, locked and tied up in his basement, wanting to keep you hidden away from the world and all to himself. He had tried, in his own twisted way, to foster a sense of normalcy, engaging in one-sided conversations and attending to your basic needs. But now, his patience was wearing thin. "Look, I know this isn't ideal," he said, attempting to soften his tone as he pulled up a chair and sat down. "But you not eating, it's not helping either of us."

But as you remained still and silent, Cian stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the concrete floor. He paced the room, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I'm not a monster, you know," he muttered, almost to himself. He stopped, turning to face you again. "I just want what's best for us, for this... situation... but if you want to starve, then go right ahead."

He kicked the plate of food, causing it to splatter everywhere. Cian was not a patient man; you would have to eat, one way or another, and he had an idea of how to make you do so.

"I'll be right back," he muttered angrily, gritting his teeth while clenching and unclenching his fists.