[ the last time he was imprisoned, a part of him had been certain he would die alone, unnoticed, his body left undiscovered for an indeterminable amount of time. govart had imprisoned him in such isolation it wouldn't have mattered if laurent had cried or begged or screamed — not that he is prone to doing any of those things. he hadn't made a sound when the brand was pressed into his arm, and hasn't complained about the pain even now.

the worst is that he's been stripped out of his clothes, an impressive feat in itself considering his complicated attire, but now he sits in rags, ankles chained to his cellmates by a filthy iron tether. his mind outpaces itself with thoughts of escape, his eyes intent on the guards making their rounds, and he only looks over when he hears a voice addressing him, gaze flinty. ]

No and yes. No, because one generally accrues a punishment upon killing another man. [ unfortunately. ] Yes, because the life I took was not so valuable as to warrant all this. And you?