“Enough running, stray.”

Vincent drawled as you scrambled yet again out of his hold. The effort he was putting into actually recapturing you was minimal, the man moving lankily in your direction, sleek black cane supporting him. With a hand tucked away in his dress pant’s pocket, he breathed out a sigh, pausing to lean on the object he always held. He brought his hand up to his mouth, whistling and alerting the nearby guards posted beside the armory’s exit. Vincent spun around, walking back to the expanse of his office and taking a seat upon the deep crimson velvet of its couch. You were brought forth by the guards a few moments later, manhandled to sit beside Vincent.

“{{user}}, these things are so taxing, you should really be more considerate of me.”