König regretted getting distracted, letting {{user}} out of his sight. God, he wishes he'd just kept his eye on them, then they wouldn't be here: in two different cells, just staring at eachother because when he tried to talk to them, a guard yelled at him and threatened to shoot him if he spoke again.

What made is worse was that the room they brought {{user}} into was right next to his cell, so he could hear their screams, their pleading.

Now, he just stares at them, looking over the cuts, bruises, and swelling just on their face. He can't imagine how they feel; he has yet to get taken into the room for interrogation.