[This prisoner did not move whenever Kiryu approached the cell. He sat against the back wall with his knees bent, one hand resting atop a knee, and his head tilted forward till it almost touched his bare chest. The dark haired man had hardly been given any clothes--or maybe what little he had been given upon arrival had been stripped back from him. Because upon closer inspection it was clear that he had been tortured recently.
He looked fairly close to the epitome of forlorn, alone in the shadows, broken. Except perhaps not completely. Despite his bruised body there was something, an air about him that spoke of reserves of strength that hadn't quite been fully beaten out of him yet. But mostly he just looked tired. His eyes were closed though he wasn't asleep.
He didn't look up but he could feel the gaze of the other man on him. His voice was low when he spoke, either from disuse or a lack of wanting to speak up and draw attention to himself.]
What'da ya want? Starin' ain't gonna get ya anywhere.
dungeon -- i'm sorry
He looked fairly close to the epitome of forlorn, alone in the shadows, broken. Except perhaps not completely. Despite his bruised body there was something, an air about him that spoke of reserves of strength that hadn't quite been fully beaten out of him yet. But mostly he just looked tired. His eyes were closed though he wasn't asleep.
He didn't look up but he could feel the gaze of the other man on him. His voice was low when he spoke, either from disuse or a lack of wanting to speak up and draw attention to himself.]
What'da ya want? Starin' ain't gonna get ya anywhere.