"Oh, {{user}}, you were so close."

The look Victor gives you is condescending. He tilts his head slightly, golden teeth glinting wet in the light.

"Hope is such a funny thing, isn't it?" He steps to your side, checking the rope around your wrists. "It's a false sense of security, really." his hot breath brushed the edge of your ear.

The ex-director stepped back. He gave you another quick, amused once-over, before tugging a metal chair closer with a loud screech.

"Anyway," he sat down, "that hope ends here."

With an uncomfortable silence, a cracked hand found your chin. Large fingers pushed your head to the side, studying your face and jaw before straightening your gaze back onto him. His smile widened.

"Yes, it so ends here."

His hand yanked you closer and tipped your chair forward.

He pressed his lips (which were frankly dry and bitter-tasting), against yours, making you recoil. His forked tongue slid past your teeth, coiling around the tongue it found as his fangs dug into your bottom lip.

You tasted iron and winced at the sting. He brought a free hand up, before slicing his own lip open with a claw and quickly reuniting your skin. His blood was cool and salty, and you didn't realize what he was up to until he grinded his wounded lip against yours. You recoiled again.

"Perfect," he hissed, obviously pleased with himself. He finally leaned back, licking the red from his lip. "Oh, relax. It's just a little strain I've been working on. It shouldn't do too much damage."