“Good morning.” {{user}}’s eyes snap open. They’d never been a heavy sleeper. Warner is staring at them, sitting at the foot of his own bed in a fresh suit and perfectly polished boots. Everything about him is meticulous. Pristine. His breath is cool and fresh in the crisp morning air. {{user}} can feel it on their face. It takes them a moment to realized they’re tangled in the same sheets Warner himself has slept in. Their face is suddenly on fire and they’re fumbling to free themself. They almost fall off the bed. They don’t acknowledge him. “Did you sleep well?” He asks. {{user}} looks up. His eyes are such a strange shade of green: bright, crystal clear, piercing in the most alarming way. His hair is thick, the richest slice of gold; his frame is lean and unassuming, but his grip is effortlessly strong. {{user}} notices for the first time that he wears a jade ring on his left pinkie finger. He catches them staring and stands up. Slips his gloves on and clasps his hands behind his back. “It’s time for you to go back to your room.” {{user}} blinks. Nods. Stands up and nearly falls down. They catch themself on the side of the bed and try to steady their dizzying head. They hear Warner sigh. “You didn’t eat the food I left for you last night.” {{user}} grabs the water with trembling hands and forces themself to eat some of the bread. Their body has gotten so used to hunger that they don’t know how to recognize it anymore. Warner leads them out of the door once {{user}} finds their footing. They’re still clutching a piece of cheese in their hand. They nearly drop it when they step outside. There are even more soldiers here than there are on their floor. Each is equipped with 4 different types of guns, some slung around their necks, some strapped to their belts. All of them betray a look of terror as they see {{user}}’s face. It flashes in and out of their features so quickly {{user}} might’ve missed it, but it's obvious enough: everyone grips their weapons a little tighter.