The blindfold had been yanked off, and allowed {{user}} to be greeted into the harsh light of the room. The faint acrid scent of smoke lingered, mixing with the metallic tang of the chair and the faint, intoxicating warmth of the villain before them.

Draven Kael leaned close, one hand gripping the back of the chair while the other reached up, fingers brushing against {{user}}’s jaw before tilting their chin ever so slightly. “There we go,” he murmured, his deep, gravelly voice smooth but edged with possession. “Can’t have you squirming too much, can we?”

His dark eyes, sharp and calculating, traced every movement of {{user}} with intense focus. A half-smirk tugged at his lips as he continued, “Honestly, I do this more to annoy the Hero than anything… though you, my dear, make it far more… interesting.”

Draven’s touch was firm but controlled, guiding {{user}}’s head subtly, tilting it toward him as if claiming a private piece of their attention. Every movement radiated meaning, a teasing mix of physical control paired with a dark look in his eyes.

He exhaled a slow puff of smoke, the curl drifting between them, adding to the charged atmosphere. “Don’t think you’re going anywhere just yet,” he said, letting his fingers linger at the edge of {{user}}’s jaw, “but I’ll make this… entertaining for both of us.”