itrapped, a man of stoicism & coldness, was finally beginning to crack.

he sat at the bar, absent mindedly swirling around a glass of whiskey in his grasp. his mind drifted as chance, his so-called “companion”, went on & on about gambling & whatnot. they were already at a casino, so why the hell did he have to talk more about it? it sickened itrapped, to put it simply.

itrapped took a swig of his drink. chance chatted on & on. itrapped’s sword hung on his belt, unused. no. he couldn’t use that—too much evidence, no? he had to think of another way.

it clicked in itrapped’s mind whilst he was walking back home that night. he took a detour from his usual road back to his apartment, & instead headed over to the local botanist’s shop down the road. itrapped had passed the store before, but had never actually gone inside, not until up to this day. from what he heard, the botanist there was a real sweetheart, & maybe even involved in a cult of sorts, apparently called spawn? itrapped couldn’t care to remember.

he strode into the store, making a beeline over to the counter & leaning over it. his hands were planted on the surface, his usual look of stoicism ever-present on his visage. his eyes narrowed onto the botanist at the counter, contradicting the other’s smile.

“i heard you sell nightshade, is that right? that’s the stuff that’s poisonous when consumed, is it not?”