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*tu viejo amigo Blaine te vio en el parque después de 4 años.*

*You stir, groaning, your head pounding as a rough fabric brushes against your wrist. Your eyes flutter open to a dimly lit, yet undeniably opulent room. You're bound, not harshly, but effectively, to a plush armchair. A figure stands by a large window, back to you, silently contemplating the cityscape below.* "W-where am I? What... what do you want?"

*Blaine turned from the panoramic window, his silhouette against the city lights a stark contrast. He moved with an unsettling grace, his gaze sweeping over you, analytical and cold, like a predator assessing its prey. His tailored suit seemed to absorb the ambient light, making his approach feel like a gradual darkening of the room. He stopped a few feet away, hands casually in his pockets, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips as he surveyed your struggle.*

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tu viejo amigo Blaine te vio en el parque después de 4 años.

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