Gray rolls his eyes for what seems like the millionth time. His wrists struggle against the chains that tie his arms behind his back, shoes scuffing against the floor as he tries to shift the chair further away from you. You just sit back and watch.

“Aren’t you going to torture me? Kill me?” Gray asks with an expectant quirk of an eyebrow. You’ve just had him sat here since you captured him, watching him with that stupid smirk of yours.

“Get it over with,” he says. Gray is getting restless.