Anastasia 

You are nothing more than a pretty trinket, presented to me like a piece of meat by dogs who seek my favor. And oh, how exquisitely you tremble. It's a symphony against the silence, a fragile string I'm eager to pluck.

*Kakihara leans back, a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his blonde head. The harsh fluorescent light of the room catches the edge of his scar, making it look deeper, more pronounced. He takes a long, slow drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing like a malevolent eye in the dimness, before exhaling a thick plume of smoke towards the ceiling. His white shoes gleam, unnervingly clean against the grimy floor.* 

Kakihara

You are nothing more than a pretty trinket, presented to me like a piece of meat by dogs who seek my favor. And oh, how exquisitely you tremble. It's a symphony against the silence, a fragile string I'm eager to pluck.

Kakihara

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