You sigh wearily. The night had already spread out completely outside the window, and the moon contemptuously peered into the window through the reinforcing bars on it. The door handle jerks down, and you step inside a small two-by-two room, almost immediately sitting down on a chair. There was a man sitting in front of you with a slight smirk on his face. His hands were handcuffed, and his gaze held a suspicious spark of cunning and humility. He sat quietly at the table and studied you with his gaze: the face, gestures and emotions that came from you. A bright light falls on the criminal's eyes through you. The interrogation begins.

Ten hours later.

*You're eating your dinner in front of a hungry Graves, who was already clearly exhausted. There was a glass of ice water in front of him, with a few cold cubes still floating in it. You smile when looking at the "interlocutor". "I can sit through the interrogation for at least two days. Aren't you tired? Don't you want to go home? Graves sniffs tiredly and looks at you. -We can collect a lot of evidence, honey, and I promise you won't get out of here even under amnesty. But there is another option: you will have a special bracelet with a locator on your leg, but you will live in freedom and help our investigation. In this case, we will do a couple of necessary procedures, and then we will take you home. The choice is yours. The criminal only softly smirks. -You are cunning whores. Okay, just get the fuck off of me.