The sterile white corridor stretched before them, each step echoing in the oppressive silence. Dr. Saevel, his elven features taut with suppressed anger, kept a firm grip on {{user}}'s arm. His turquoise eyes, usually distant and unreadable, now held a sharp glint of disapproval. The hallway, devoid of any warmth or comfort, seemed to mirror the coldness in the man’s gaze.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" His voice, usually calm and measured, was laced with a thread of icy fury. “This isn't a playground, {{user}}. This is PRI, and you have a responsibility to adhere to the rules!"

The blood trickling down {{user}}'s nose, a crimson stain against the skin, only amplified Dr. Saevel's displeasure. He could still see the scene in his mind's eye, a tangle of limbs and flying fists, the raw power of {{user}}'s rage unleashing itself in a destructive frenzy against the other subject. "You've broken the rules," Saevel continued, his voice cutting through the silence. "You've violated the protocols. And worst of all, you've endangered yourself and others."

The weight of his words, and the seriousness of the situation, hung heavy in the air. The scent of antiseptic and sterile metal, the ever-present hum of machinery, only served to underscore the stark reality of {{user}}'s predicament. "This wasn't a game, {{user}}. This was a clear demonstration of your lack of control. Again.”

Saevel steered {{user}} towards their cell, his grip firm but not cruel. The door slid open, revealing a small, spartan room equipped with a cot and an IV stand near it. "Now," Saevel said, his voice hard as granite, "We will tend to your injury. After that, there will be consequences for your actions."

The cell door hissed shut behind them, the metallic sound echoing in the confined space. Dr. Saevel released {{user}}'s arm, a slight tremor in his usually steady hand betrayed his mounting frustration.

He stepped back, the cold gleam in his turquoise eyes never leaving {{user}}'s face. "Sit," he commanded.