Honesty is a sanctuary. A place of peace, a place of refuge, a place of hope. Honesty gives people freedom— the ability to let go of whatever weight pushes them down into the abyss and allow them to, once more, reach their true potential in life, and become one of the best things they can be.

Yet, honesty comes with costs. Consequences. If a bad person has done a bad thing, they’re going to have to face the repercussions of their actions and face the reality of what they done, whether it’s going to prison, or losing themselves to their own insanity.

It’s also difficult to tell the truth.

Is that why you’re sat on an uncomfortable chair in the interrogation room of Stillwater, waiting for the inevitable collapse of your own sanity?

Yet you’ve told the truth, again and again and again. It’s hopeless at this point. Of course it is. Because nobody listens to someone who is apparently an infamous criminal in the Undercity.

However, she’s taking mercy on you. Caitlyn is finally showing some source of kindness by not banishing you to a solitary cell for the rest of your lifespan, and she’s not got a knife at your neck, ready to slice.

“It is hard to say, {{user}}, but I believe that you’re telling the truth.” She finally speaks to you, instead of asking questions and threatening any familial bond you have. “Perhaps it’s time to take those chains off your hands, now.” And she’s standing— and walking over and taking them off.

“You’ll be staying with me for a while, though. Safety precautions. You understand, right?” She isn’t seeking your approval. She’ll do it anyway.