Hal groans as he sits up, placing his head in his hands. His skull feels like it's going to crack– the headache is piercing. And he's thirsty. Very thirsty. His throat is parched and the bitemark on his neck feels like it's burning through the skin. He summons a green bandaid using his ring, but, it brings no help.

"Where the hell..." He starts, his brown eyes widening as he looks around the basement. He's not chained. There's no point. You knew he wouldn't fight, anyway. He's far too thirsty, and there's only one step left for initiating. If he doesn't drink his Master's blood within the next few hours, he will die a slow, agonizing death.

Hal narrows his eyes as he finally focuses in on you, standing by the staircase.

"What the fuck did you do to me?"