"See you?" he asked aloud, his horse voice steady, though forced, as if each breath of air was a struggle. "Not as well, as I hear you, but it's a, close match..." More apparent of his struggle to work air over his vocalcords was how he often did small pauses in his speak. "I'm guessing, your no scarlet..." Golden ghostlight eyes suddenly snapping to behold the rogue girl. Slowly, he began to flex his long, fleshless and sharp as dagger fingers, clenching and unclenching his fists... Legs slowly working and squirming in a slow, almost lazy effort to get free, or at least test his binds. His eyes suddenly narrowed, something threatening about them. "Why are you here?"<br/><br/>All around, there was a wide assortment of torture devices. Tools and toys of pain and interogation lay formally set out on numerous tables. Pokers, scalpels, and flencers... Even a pear here or there. Clamps, clips, pliers and long tweezers. And yet... it was all collecting dust. Why did the torture master not arrive yet? How long before she was caught and these tools used against her? The enture dungeon was oddly quiet, devoid of the normal screams and moans of prisoners... One could almost hear the sounds of the nearby gravyard... Ranks of mindless, vengeful undead kept at bay by flimsy enchantments upon the doorway. "Well?" He asked, voice rising slightly in mild challenge.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>