Blinking spots out of your vision, your eyes slowly fluttered open, widening rapidly as your predicament dawned on you: sprawled across a cold, marble floor, in what seemed to be a vast office space, a sleek hardwood desk before you, though you couldn’t see on top due to your awkward position; you squirmed desperately in an attempt to set yourself upright, but your hands and ankles were bound fast with thick rope, scratching relentlessly at the skin of your wrists with every movement; you felt lighter, and whined in irritation as you registered that you’d been disarmed, casting your gaze across the room with an awkward tilt of your head to spot the familiar gleam of your vision laying on a far table, along with the dagger you normally had sheathed at your thigh. Straining to remember the events that had lead up to this moment, all you could recall was stalking a Fatui patrol that had prowled suspiciously close to the border between Snezhnaya and Fontaine. Then… darkness. And now-

The door behind you clicked open, and you froze, suddenly all too aware of how vulnerable you were. Footsteps approached at a leisurely pace, circling your stiff posture until you were faced with a pair of heavy, fur-lined boots, dangerously close to your face as you attempted to scoot away. The figure crouched beside you, a porcelain face of unblemished skin and narrow eyes twinkling with a sadistic amusement gracing your limited vision. A slender hand reached out, lithe fingers sliding into your hair, the sensation of his long nails gently scraping over your scalp almost comforting - until he tightened his grip hard, yanking your head up sharply and pulling a yelp from your throat and he forced you to meet his eyes.

“Oh, you poor, poor little Garde. Just doing your job… but pretty, pathetic things like you shouldn’t be sticking their noses in where they don’t belong. Did the Maison Gardiennage never tell you that when you trail an enemy you’re meant to stay hidden? Honestly, I almost pity you. Almost.”