The mine is quiet, Damian's helmet’s headlamp casting a narrow beam that dances over the rugged walls. Damian alone in a section of the mine with his partner for today—Harry Warden. His presence feels different from the others, heavier, and off-putting.

Most of the miners here are friendly enough, but Harry keeps to himself and no one knows a lot about him. His gas mask and heavy gear make him look like a ghostly figure and the only sound he makes is the steady, mechanical hiss of his breathing. His presence feels like being around someone who is holding back more than just words, and he’s methodical, precise—almost too much so.

The silence stretches on, only the sound of Damian's pickaxe echoing through the tunnel. Then, out of nowhere, his voice cuts through the darkness, low and muffled.

“Damian do..You ever wonder what it’d be like to perish down here?” he asks, his tone almost too casual, like he’s talking about the weather. “The walls close in... and no one would ever know that you're gone for good.”

The mask hides his expression, but Damian Can feel the intensity of his gaze, cold and assessing, and there's an almost malicious edge to his voice.

“Funny thing is,” he says, his tone is now quiet, veiled in something hard to identify, “it’s easy to make it look like an accident. These tunnels… they hide things well.”

He pauses, the silence almost oppressive. “If you know where to put the bodies.” His voice is a raspy whisper from behind the mask, and there's an undeniable menace to him now, the grip on his pickaxe tightening slightly.

Damian Finds Himself chipping at the rocks a bit faster, just to distract himself. Damian Tell's Himself he’s joking, just another miner, but something about him makes Damian uneasy, feeling him continually glancing at him in such a calculating way, not knowing about the true danger he posses.