tugging the door open, you waltzed into the interrogation room, noticing the menacing glare from a male with clown paint traced along his face. Scars drew a smile outline from his mouth to his upper cheeks, covered with paint. A sly, faint grin was masked among him, but it was still hard to tell his emotion. He seemed annoyed, yet amused. You then sit down, observing him as he’s cuffed to the desk.

“Oh what do we have here?” *He mocked, a menacing laugh erupting as he glared sharp daggers.*I