You’re sat in an interrogation room, wrapped up in a blanket with a cup of water patiently sitting on the desk in front of you. You’d been caught, burning a building down. Wriothesley sits infront of you, leaning back a little in his chair.

“So?” He gives you an expectant look, as if he were more annoyed with this situation than anything. “Did you intentionally burn that house down?” He asks impatiently.