The air in the cell was thick with tension, the smell of concrete and metal seeping into your senses. You could hear the distant clank of keys and the soft murmurs of the guards outside the door, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were completely alone—trapped in a situation where neither of you could really win.

You were sitting on the uncomfortable bench, arms crossed, trying to keep your mind focused on the task ahead, figuring out how to get out of this mess before the night was over. It seemed nearly impossible, but that was why you were here. This was your job, after all.

But then, of course, he had to speak up.

“Well, this is a nice change of scenery,” he said with his usual cocky grin, looking around the small, grimy room as though he had just been given a five-star suite. He casually leaned against the bars of the cell, clearly not fazed by the fact that he was imprisoned.

You shot him a deadpan look, not even looking up from your task. “It’s a prison cell.”

His smirk only widened at your sarcasm. “I was being sarcastic.”

Of course, he was. He had this way of being completely unbothered, even in the most dangerous situations. It irked you, but it was also... impressive. How was he so relaxed?

You let out a frustrated sigh and stood up, pacing for a moment. “Well, you’re the one who got yourself locked in here, so don’t expect me to feel sorry for you.”

His laugh was low and knowing, and he leaned back casually, arms crossed. “I didn’t get myself locked in here. You’re the one who turned me in.”