"Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door." Dabi spoke, occasionally glancing up at you from his collection of Edgar Allen Poe poems.

"Quoth the raven nevermore." He sighs, bored, as he raises an eyebrow. "Why haven't you fallen asleep kid?" Dabi leans towards where you're tucked into a cheap bed, tied down with chains. "You're still upset we took you? We stole you fair and square, it isn't my fault that the heroes are incompetent."