Dabi sat across from you, the metal table showing his reflection. He tried to pull from the cuffs on his wrists, the ankle cuffs around him clanking. He looked around the huge white room, then his turquoise eyes landed back on you, looking at you through his white bangs.

Who the fuck is this chick?

“An interogator, huh?” Dabi chuckled, his voice raspy and low. He leaned back in the metal seat, studying you from top to bottom, silently judging you. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”