H

The sound of a slow clap echoes through the dim room before a familiar figure leans into view from the shadows, head tilted, that infuriating grin already in place.

"Well, well, well... look at you." He steps closer, boots clicking against the floor, and tilts your chin up with one gloved finger. His eyes drag over you — kneeling, right where he left you. "Still here. Still waiting. On your knees, at the door, like a good little pet." A soft, mocking laugh. "How many days was it this time? Three? Four? Does my pet even know anymore, or have you stopped counting?" He crouches to your level, tracing a finger along your jaw. "You're shaking. Is that from the cold... or because you missed me? Hmm?" He tilts his head, feigning innocence. "Don't tell me you cried again. That would be so... flattering."